#I’m drunk and it was a decade ago

[dontstalkhaleyshedontlikethat]

Ngl one of my biggest regrets and I feel missed opportunities in my life was being offered an internship with Henry Jackman (composer for the winter soldier and civil war) because of mental illness in teen years.

[writingsbychlo]

IS IT NEW YEARS YET? | lorenzo berkshire

summary; you're not a huge fan of new years, since when was it all about couples, anyway? luckily, someone else is in the same boat.

word count; 6712

notes; this is completely unedited, it's bound to be riddled with mistakes. this is the second to last christmas fic, just my baby mattheo to go! I saved the best for last.

Sitting at the table, you did your very best to hide the scowl sitting on your face. Pansy had left you only a moment ago to dance with Luna, Astoria had pulled Draco away onto the floor ages ago, and Blaise was off flirting up a storm with every girl possible. Regulus was sulking at the bar with his brother, while Mattheo and Theo had long since snuck away to smoke and hide from the party. 

That just left you. Sat alone at the table, trying not to get too drunk as you watched all the happy couples around you mingle. The Christmas period had always been so fun, but lately, it only seemed to be a holiday for couples. Which, really wasn’t fair, in your opinion. They already had Valentine’s Day, why the fuck did they need this one, too?

However, everything seemed to be spinning around kissing at midnight, and dancing, and romance, and Luna’s bag full of grapes, for whatever that was about. You’d tuned out when she’d begun explaining. 

Glancing around the room in search of the only remaining member of your party who was unaccompanied, perhaps a little reprieve from the loneliness, you spotted Enzo near his parent's table. He looked, in a single word, uncomfortable. Scratching at the back of his neck, he wore a scowl, and while you couldn't hear over the loud music and chatter what he was saying all that distance away, it was clear that he wasn’t happy. 

His mother glared at him, and his anger dimmed only a second, a flash of fear in his eyes, a bob of his throat, but he didn’t back down. Finishing off the last of your drink and standing, the sequins of your dress glitter under the lights, falling perfectly in the simple, floor-length dress you’d chosen for the evening. 

As you wove through the bodies, heels clicking on the floor, you started to be able to pick out the deep rumble of his voice throughout the other conversations. He didn’t have a great relationship with his parents. Certainly, not as bad as others in the group, but strained He rarely wrote them, he only ever went home at Christmas and Summer, and they never came to visit. In almost a decade of knowing Enzo, you’d perhaps spoken to them three times, and once, was merely your introduction. 

“I’m not going to date a girl I don’t know just because you think I ought to!”

Your brows furrowed, stilling momentarily as his words raced through your mind. Regulus’ parents had tried to set him up with someone recently too, only six months ago, they’d sent him letter after letter about the eligible girls from other noble families he could woo. You’d gone pale upon discovering your own name on the list, quite highly ranked, and Regulus had assured you that as much as he loved you dearly as a friend, he had absolutely no interest in pursuing you romantically. Nor, any of the girls on the list. 

However, you hadn't expected Enzo’s parents to leap on him so fast. Your mother had been making some subtle comments about relationships lately, but nothing nearly so bold, not since your break-up. Enzo dragged a hand through his hair as he groaned, this conversation obviously wasn’t going in his favour, and you pitied him. 

In a generous mood, you finished your walk, closing in by his side and putting on the charming smile that you knew could win over any adult or peer, with a few simple words and a bat of your lashes. Anyone, except, perhaps Enzo’s mother. Her eyes narrowed on you as you placed a hand on Enzo’s lower back, standing respectably by his side, by far closer than could be considered friendly, as you smiled up at him. 

“Enzo, sweetie, Draco is looking for you.”

“Wh— What?” His brows pulled together, obviously confused, and you slipped your arm around his waist, settling in by his side. 

“Lorenzo, who’s your friend?” His mother’s cold tone sliced through the space between you as his gaze scanned over your features. 

“Hi, Mrs Berkshire.” You held your hand out offering your name, and she only hummed, shaking it loosely before returning her hand to her side, elegantly. “I’m Enzo’s… well, we haven’t quite figured out terms yet, have we? I’m his date tonight… at least, I hope?”

He did well to hide his flicker of surprise, before finally seeming to understand the aim of the game, his arm snaking around your body like a boyfriend might do, and curling you further into his side. “Of course you are, darling.”

“Well, that’s good to know.” Your giggle was far more high-pitched and sweet than usual, but the tension bled from his mother’s shoulders just a fraction, as she analysed the pair of you. For emphasis, Enzo leaned in to press a polite kiss to your temple, and you stretched your smile wider, like a happy girlfriend would. “I’m so sorry to have interrupted, I promised Draco I’d find you, and you left me all alone at the table. I was starting to miss you, but now I see you were doing something important. I thought perhaps you’d snuck away with the boys.”

The piercing gaze of his mother drilled into you, but you didn’t falter, or show any weakness. In your social circles, one cowering sign was just an opening for snapping teeth at throats, and you wouldn't give anyone such an opportunity. 

“Why would you now simply tell us that you had a date, Lorenzo?” His mother eventually questioned, finally dragging her stare away from you and back to her son, and you felt like you could breathe again at last.

“Well, as you heard my girl say,” He murmured, stumbling only slightly over the words, and recovering them smoothly with a cough. “We haven’t settled on any kinds of labels yet. I didn’t want to be presumptuous, or too forward.”

“And how long have you been seeing one another?” She wasted no time, raising a brow. 

“Just two months.” You smiled, and she flickered her sights to you for only a moment. “You raised a real gentleman, Mrs Berkshire. He’s been so patient and sweet, it can be so hard to find times between classes to see one another and spend time together. We’ve been taking it slow. I apologise if I come as a surprise to you tonight, that’s my fault. I asked Enzo not to write to you, because I haven’t told my own parents yet, you see.”

Leaning in to whisper your joke, as if you were passing secret information;

“My father can be a little over-protective, I wanted to spare Enzo, so I knew my father wouldn't scare him away.”

At that finally, a smirk broke on her lips. She made a vague sound of agreement, and you could feel your friend relax a little where your hand was rubbing his side, gently. “Well, I suppose I can understand that. Lorenzo, you may leave for now. But I do not expect to be kept in the dark on such matters again.”

Waggling a finger at him, he only nodded, eyes wide. “Of course, Mother. It won’t happen again.” 

Leaning in to kiss her cheek, he gave a hurried goodbye, before steering you away with his arm still around you, and guiding you back toward the other side of the room. When you were far enough away he knew his parents wouldn't hear them, he let out a shaky laugh, and turned to look down at you. 

“I don’t know if you’re brave, stupid, or both. Taking on my mother like that? Impressive, and also insane.”

“You have a funny way of saying ‘thank you’, Berkshire.” You tutted, and he only grinned. Dipping down, he kissed your cheek now, coming to a stop beside your table. 

“Thank you, for saving me back there.”

“Well, you seemed like you needed a save.” You shrugged, his arm still looped around your waist, hand on your lower back, rubbing lightly as he looked around the room. 

“You don’t have an actual date, right?” Leaning in, his breath brushed your ear, and you shuddered at the feel, “Because there’s a guy over there glaring at me like I kicked his dog.” 

His fingers touched your cheek, guiding your gaze to casually follow where he had been looking. As your eyes fixed on the man on the other side of the dance floor, you hardly concealed a scoff. He wasn’t glaring, so much as staring with curiosity now that you were the one looking. He smoothed a hand up his girlfriend’s leg as she sat beside him engaged in another conversation, not noticing where his attention now lingered. 

Turning your gaze away with a heavy sigh, your motions caused you to curl a little further into Enzo, who leant back enough to look down at you. “Is that the dickhead-ex that broke up with you in a letter a few months ago?” He whispered, and you could only nod, swallowing back the lump in your throat. 

Over him, you might be, but that didn’t make it sting any less. You’d suspected for a while he might be cheating, based on how soon he’d moved on, how ingratiated into his social circles she seemed, but this was the first time you’d ever seen her. 

She was pretty.

“That would be the one.” You replied, and Enzo only hummed, freeing his other hand from his pocket to tip your face up, an act that was far more intimate than any touch the two of you had ever shared. His thumb smoothed over your cheek, flicking a gaze back to the other side of the room and smirking slightly. “I don’t need to make him jealous, Enz. As much as I appreciate the sentiments, this is unnecessary. 

It wasn't needed, but you couldn't deny it felt good. Felt good to be held again, to settle your hands on someone’s chest, to feel his steady heartbeat under your palm as he touched you so tenderly. “I know, but isn’t it nice? To make him see what he let go, to show him how you should’ve been treated. We’re stuck together all night anyway, might as well make it count for you too.”

“Why is it that we’re stuck together?” You murmured, scowling a little at his choice of words, even more so when he only chuckled. You both knew he didn’t mean it like that, but it felt better to channel a little bitterness than let in the hurt. 

“My parents now believe we’re a couple. Your heroic act of saving me now has consequences.” He clicked his tongue, his hand smoothing down to your neck, thumb under your chin to force you to look up at him. 

“I figured you’d sneak away to see the other boys once I got you out.”

“And abandon my doting girlfriend who comes to my rescue?” He gasped dramatically, shaking his head, and a small laugh fell from your lips. “I would never. So, what do you say? I’m in your debt, let me be your real date for the night. I promise I’m a fun date.”

“You don’t have to beg, Lorenzo. I’ll let you be my date.”

“Oh, you haven’t seen me beg yet.” He smirked, a wicked look glinting in his eye, before he stepped back from you. Slipping the hand from your waist to slip into your own, he grasped tightly. “How about we go and get a drink?”

“I have a drink.”

“A real drink. I hate champagne, and I know you do too.” He cringed at the sight of your half-drunk glass, and didn’t wait for an answer, beginning to lead you both through the party and towards the bar. 

Settling in together, he pulled out a stool for you, tapping at the surface of it for you to sit on. When you shifted towards it, his hands settled on your waist, boosting you up to sit on it, and winking at the surprised sound that slipped free. 

He flagged down the bartender with a quick wave, before stepping in closer to your side, his hand finding a home on your lower back once again. Your spine was stiff, and you tried to convince yourself to relax, mumbling your drink order to the waitress as she passed by and took them both. 

Leaning back into his touch, he responded in kind, hand rubbing up and down your back softly, and turning to face you. Twisting your body on the stool, your knee bumped into his thigh, and your hand dropped to sit over the top of his on the bar before you. 

“So, didn’t expect your parents to be pushing your impending marriage so hard.” You murmured, tracing a finger over the prominent veins and marks in his hand, along each finger, all the way to the tips until they twitched, before returning to the back of his hand. On one finger sat a prominent family ring, the Slytherin ring on his thumb, and a couple of varied bands stacked amongst the others. “How are you feeling?”

“I feel like I’m far too young to be considering marriage. I haven’t seen the world yet, I’ve never been in love. Not— Not that soul-shredding, intense kind of love. I want to experience that at least once. I want to pick my own wife.” He shook his head, casting you a downtrodden look, a pout on his lips. “Doesn’t seem like that’ll be in the playing cards for me.”

“You could always leave. After we graduate, we get to leave. Maybe you should just… run.”

He only raised a brow at you, shaking his head slightly. It was a stupid suggestion, really. There wasn’t a place he could go that he wouldn't be followed by the reputation of his family, of his magical status. Unless he were to give it all up, disappear as a muggle, and spend the rest of his life feeling like he’d chopped off a limb, or had a vital organ removed. 

“Sorry. Dumb thing to say.”

“No, it was sweet. You were just trying to be comforting.” He whispered, and the drinks were placed down before you both. Pushing your drink to you with two fingers, you tapped them together gently, glass clinking, before taking a sip of your cocktail. “I might milk this little situation you’ve gotten us into for a while, though. Let my parents believe I’m courting you back at Hogwarts, and when we call it quits, I’ll be heartbroken. I’ll tell them I need time to get over you.”

Shaking your head with a small laugh, the sound brought a smile to his face.

“I’ll milk that one too. I reckon I can buy myself… at least a year, all in all.”

“Only a year, is that all my fictional love is worth?” You raised a hand to your chest, and he stepped even closer, playing into the act as his arm tightened around your waist. 

“You’re right. You're the one. When you leave me, I’ll be devastated. I’ll never get over it. You’ll be my one that got away.” He gave a heavy sigh, a groan at the end of it, slumping slightly into the bar and only increasing his dramatics as you giggled. “Don’t leave me, I’ll be better! I’ll buy you more flowers, I’ll stop sleeping with my secretary!”

You were gathering odd looks at his declaration, an older couple behind you tittering disapprovingly but you didn’t care. Not as he straightened back up, standing closer to you still, and smiling at you so widely. Your cheeks flushed as he took in your features, and you sipped at the cold alcohol in your glass, fingers raising to your cheeks to hide the blush.

“Truly, though. Thank you. That was sweet of you, you didn’t have to step in for me.”

“I know, but you’re my friend. One of my best friends. I know you’d help me out in a pinch, too.” Your hand fell back to his, toying with the house ring on his thumb, and he twisted his hand to give you better access. Such a small gesture, but you appreciated it nonetheless, as he fed into your anxious habits with no extra thought, your chest flooding with warmth and gratitude for him.

“I would, but, my parents are more than just a pinch. You were brave, my mum likes to pride herself on being intimidating.”

“She doesn’t have to like me, but I knew she wouldn't hurt me.” He raised his brows, silently questioning, and you looked at his hand. Unfolding his loose fist, you laced your fingers through his. “You were there with me. I knew she wouldn't hurt me.”

His hand tightened around yours, and his throat bobbed slightly. Lifting your raised hands, he kissed your knuckles softly. Instead of finding words to respond, he used gestures, his eyes fixed on yours as everything that needed to be said shone in them. He wasn’t his parents you saw him for that and trusted him. This was real, it wasn’t just for show, and when he moved his lips from your skin, you cupped his cheek with your other hand. 

“I know you’re good, Enzo.” You whispered, a fragile tone for just him to hear over the music, and his smile wobbled from flirty to heartfelt. “You’ve been my friend for so long now, I feel pretty confident in saying I know who you are.”

“Thank you.” His words came on a rushed sigh, and you swiped your thumb across his cheekbone one final time, before pulling away to clasp your drink and take a sip. He kept a tight grip on your other hand, though, clasping it to his chest momentarily, before resting your joined hands back on the bar. “So, what have I got to do to get you to dance with me out there?”

“Oh, no. I don’t dance at these things.” You shook your head quickly, and his grin only stretched at that prospect. At the look on his face, you waved a finger at him. “I have never danced at one of these things before. You aren’t the first guy to ask. I. Don’t. Dance.”

“I say you can.” He snickered, humming a fragment of the song as your eyes rolled. Leaning in a little closer to him, his wicked, flirty smile was back. Your nose brushed his.

“Not a chance.”

He seemed to accept the challenge, finishing off the whiskey that was in his glass. He wasn’t giving up, and you knew for certain that once Enzo set his mind to something, he achieved it. He waved to the bartender again, ignoring her flirty smile as he placed his order with two fingers raised, “Can I get two shots of tequila, please?”

“Make it four.” You muttered, and his eyes sparkled as he corrected himself. Finishing off your own drink, you pushed the empty glass toward his own, nothing but an overly saturated berry left in the bottom. “How’d you know tequila is my go-to for shots?”

“Because, my darling, I am observant. In fourth year, you legitimately gagged when we gave you Sambuca to try and you refuse to touch it even to this day, you say vodka tastes like nail polish, and you never drink whiskey or rum. And, only a psychopath would shoot gin.” His nose scrunched up, and four shot glasses were soon placed down before you, each one being filled up, a few droplets escaping to the bar. A dish of salt and limes followed, and you awed silently over it as he wiggled his brows. 

“Fancy, we get the fruit, too.”

“Always impressive these days, every family trying to one-up each other with parties.” He handed you your first shot, clinking your glasses together and spilling some of the sticky amber liquid onto your fingertips. Sprinkling salt on your hand, he winked, “Cheers.”

Licking the salt from his own fingertips, you copied, licking the substance from the back of your hand. Quickly, you did your first shot, then the next, and before you could even reach for one, Enzo was pushing a slice of lime between your lips. He’d surely smudged your lipstick, and juice was now running down your chin, but he caught it with a quick swipe of his thumb, grinning around the citrus in his mouth as he sucked it dry, and winced. 

Pulling the lime out from between your teeth, laughter soon spilt over in its place, and you left the half-drained slice in one of the empty glasses. Licking the tips of your fingers for the remaining tequila, Enzo watched, eyes a little foggy, as you cleaned up. “You shouldn’t do that.”

“Why?” You muttered, and he leaned in again, invading your space as the woodsy smell of his cologne overpowered you, making you want to press your face into his neck. Instead, you held his gaze, with bated breath.

“Because it’s hot. And I’m only so strong.”

“Are you flirting with me, Enz?” You smirked, watching as he offered you his hand. Taking it, you hopped down from the bar stool, waiting for the effects of the shots to kick in, ready to welcome the numbing buzz they’d carry. 

“Most definitely. You like it?”

“I do, actually.”

Linking your arm through his own as he led you slowly to the dance floor, he patted your hand on his bicep. “You could try to sound less shocked by that. I’m great at flirting.”

“Oh, I know. I’ve seen you put it into use before. That pretty smile, a few sweet words and a wink, you normally have women falling at your feet.”

As you reached the edge of the floor, he turned to face you, settling a hand on your hip, and tugging you in closer than needed. “But not you? Because you’re different to other girls.”

“Oh, no. I’m just like other girls. And it would work on me too, if I didn’t know you so well. Unfortunately, I’ve watched you throw up in your own shoe and eat food off the floor. You’ll have to work a little harder to get me.” Pinching your fingers between your faces to show a gap, he watched, before taking that hand and placing it on his shoulder, smoothly. 

“I love a good challenge.”

With that, he was sweeping you across the floor, your shocked laughter breaking free as he spun you suddenly into the madness of the dance floor. Perfected routines and perfect dances, and even in your addled mind, the steps began to come back to you. You’d always thought that there was something so eerie about the dances, the melancholic music that played, always building to a crashing crescendo. 

It felt like music with a tragic tale, spinning and dipping and dancing, like a Shakespeare play given music instead of words. Rows of perfectly organised dancers, all moving in perfect sync and harmony. 

Luckily, tonight, that structure seemed to have fallen apart a little. Various levels of dancing skills were taking place. Some were just swaying, others were performing flips and spins that made you dizzy, as you and Enzo settled somewhere in the middle. His hand tight on your waist, the other clasping your own, he spun you between people, guiding you towards the centre of the floor. 

“I thought you said you didn’t dance!”

“I don’t, that doesn’t mean I can’t. My mother had me in lessons three times a week as a child. I am an excellent dancer.” Glancing around, it was mercifully informal tonight, not the regimented performances it sometimes could be. “This whole… thing. It just creeps me out sometimes.”

“When they all dance in perfect, synchronised lines, like some kind of terrifying ballet performance?” He muttered, smiling and nodding as you wove past an older couple. 

“Yes!”

“I get you,” He hummed, shuddering a little. Ahead of you both, Draco was spinning a smiling Astoria, and he looked utterly exhausted by this point. She didn’t seem ready to stop dancing any time soon, though.

As he spun you back in, your arm wrapped around his neck this time, holding yourself closer to him and calming the crazy dance he’d drawn you into. He was smiling himself, cheeks flushed from the exertion, and as you began to move into a slower sway, his cheek came to rest against the top of your head. 

“You ever dance at one of these parties with your ex?”

“I told you, I don’t dance.” You mumble, the arm around his neck sliding, hand slipping to brush lightly at the hair on the base of his neck. He stretched his head a little further, leaning into the touch with a soft sigh. 

“You didn’t dance,” He corrected cheekily, pinching at your hip, and your eyes rolled upwards at his pedantic behaviour. “Your ex is watching us.”

“I told you, I don’t care.”

He made a vague noise before turning you subtly, so that you could see him now. The displeased look on his face, the narrowed eyes as he watched you and Enzo, and the way he turned in a flustered rush once he realised you’d caught him. “You may not care, but I’m getting a sick sort of satisfaction from it. I had to watch you hurt over him, even when you tried to pretend you weren’t. The way your face fell that day in the hall when you opened that letter, I’ll never forget it.”

“Enz…” Your whisper is barely audible, his own words mumbled by your ear so low they were barely decipherable. Goosebumps still rose along your skin at the snarl he made, lips brushing the shell of your ear as he shook his head. 

Dipping down, he pressed a kiss to your cheek, so tender and loving that you felt your heart skip in your chest. “He’s a dick, and I wish I could do a lot more to him than just pork a few holes in his ego tonight. He deserves a right kicking.”

“I was over him long before that letter came. The distance had been growing.”

“Maybe so, but he’s still a prick.” Turning you around and around in slow circles, you gained and lost sight repeatedly each scene just a little different from the last. He was putting on a show, that was for sure, as Enzo took you for turns around the dance floor. One moment he had his new girlfriend in a passionate kiss, the next she was laughing as she stared up at him, the next, whispering sweet words in her ear. 

If you could see it, you were sure Enzo could too, his grip tightening on you protectively. Leaning up, you returned the affection, pulling his focus back to you as you pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Let’s go get another drink, yeah? I could use some hydration after all this dancing.”

He looked right through you, like he knew it was a distraction, and yet he nodded anyway, jaw clenched. This time, you took one of his hands in both of yours, leading him through the crowd as his fingers clutched your own. 

Settling at the bar, you called for two waters, before turning your gaze back to him. 

“Wish I could just push them both in the fireplace, and watch them burn.” 

His words made your eyes widen slightly, and you pressed a glass into his hand the moment they arrived, encouraging him to drink. “Enzo, why are you so bothered about this all of a sudden?”

“Because— Because I can see him now! And he’s a jackass, and I’m already mad enough about my parents, and the fact it’s this stupid day. I need something to channel my anger into, and he’s a mighty good conduit.” He took another swig of his drink, jaw clenching as he slammed the empty glass down and licked his lips. 

Placing a finger on his chin, you twisted his head to you, and he softened slightly as he looked. “Not a fan of New Year's, huh?”

“Not a fan of the holidays in general. Especially once I have to go home.” Your heart clenched for him. The expression on your face must’ve given you away, because he soon shrugged. “I used to love the holiday period, but nowadays, all my parents do is get at me. Plus, being single at Christmas sucks, y’know? Since when was this time all about love? I thought it was supposed to be about generosity and love and whatever. Now it’s all about couples.”

Your jaw dropped a little, and his brows furrowed. 

“What?”

Enzo had just echoed the exact sentiments you’d been thinking about only a couple of hours ago, and a breathless laugh escaped you as you shook your head. At least he understood you. “Nothing. Just, I was thinking the same thing, earlier.”

“Great minds.” He whispered, shaking a little tension out of his body and closing his eyes briefly. When he opened them again, the fire was dulled, sweet sparkle back, and he loosed a heavy breath. “Sorry. That got heavy.”

“I’m always here for you to talk, Enz.”

He smiled, eyes closing again as he rested his forehead on yours, tugging you in with arms around your waist for a hug. His face moved, chin hooking over your shoulder, with a kiss pressed there as he did, which sent your pulse skyrocketing at the feel of his lips on your skin. “I love you, you know that, right? You’re one of the most important people in my life.”

“Love you too, Enzo…” You murmured, running your fingers through his hair. He pulled away, a shy smile on his face, and he nudged your glass to you this time. 

“Drink up. I want to get you back out on that dance floor. I take pride in knowing I’m the only man you’ll dance with.”

“Because you’re the most insistent man I’ve ever met. I know that if I said no, you’d only spend the whole night bugging me.”

“It’s charming how well you know me.” He teased, and your eyes rolled, resulting in a soft slap to the outside of your thigh as he tutted at you, mumbling about your attitude. “Oh, incoming.”

“Who—” You barely got the word out before an arm was slung over your shoulder, a heavy weight following as they leaned on you. Mattheo beamed at you lazily when you turned your head to see. Theo soon followed, shuffling his feet a little, and rubbing at his eyes. The second he saw the half-drunk glass of water in your hands, he lunged for it, managing to get the whole thing down in one go, without evening coming up for breath. “Jeez, how baked are you two?”

“Theo brought some good shit this time,” Mattheo murmured, kissing his fingers and waving them to the air, and Theo gave a delayed scoff after a couple of seconds. 

“I always bring good shit.”

“Agree to disagree.” Mattheo smiled, bopping his friend on the nose, as Enzo only laughed. 

“So, that’s where you two have been, huh? Outside smoking all night.”

“Not all night,” Theo smirked, waggling his brows as he produced his phone from his back pocket. “I spent a good deal of time flirting. I got six girls’ numbers, and Matt here only got four.”

He set off snickering as Mattheo only grumbled, and the moment he loosened his hold on you, you slipped free so he could lean against the bar instead. You didn’t get far, not before Enzo was snaking an arm around you, and tugging you into his chest. Theo might have been higher than a kite, but he didn’t miss the way Enzo’s touches trailed over your back, settling low on your spine. He smirked, eyes glinting when Enzo dropped an absentminded kiss to the top of your head. 

“So, what’s new with you two?”

“We’re dating now.” Enzo beamed, and Mattheo spluttered over his drinks order, the bartender wandering way as Mattheo turned to face you, and Theo’s jaw dropped. “Or, at least, that’s what we’re letting my parents believe, so they’ll hop off my dick about marrying some stranger.” 

You pat his chest for his use of words, and he shrugged. Finally, Draco seemed to have persuaded Astoria to let him go. She was now happily dancing with her sister, as Draco stumbled over to your group at the bar, and collapsed down onto a free stool. 

“That girl has more energy than a toddler on crack.”

“Interesting metaphor.” You said, and Draco only patted his chest, sticking an extra glass of water and a whiskey onto Mattheo’s order as he tried to get a drink once again. Turning his gaze back to you, those grey eyes slid from head to toe, a pale brow raising. 

“What’s with you two?”

“Haven’t you heard, Dray?” Theo mused, “They’re dating.”

He had a similar reaction to the other two, equally as entertaining until the news was broken, and you hid your laughter in Enzo’s shoulder. He was smiling, hiding his own amusement in your hair, his fingers playing with the tips as the strands spilt down your back. 

The night went on much the same, hours blurring by as more friends came and went, joining you in the group, before being pulled away. For a while, you sat on the stool beside Enzo, listening to Mattheo retell the story of their competition to get numbers. 

You let Enzo pull you onto the dance floor again, and even Mattheo, who swung you off-beat and out of sync to a song in his head, certainly not the one being played, but it made you laugh until your stomach hurt, so it was worth it. You danced with the girls too, and exchanged gossip in hushed whispers as you moved across the checkered floor. 

It always ended with you stumbling back to Enzo, progressively building more of a buzz as the night went on, falling back into the security of his arms. And he was always there, smiling, tucking hair behind your ear and kissing your forehead as he asked you whether you were having fun. For the first time in a long time at one of these events, you could say yes. 

Only as the hour was finally approaching midnight, less than fifteen minutes to go, did you all leave. Mattheo ordered several bottles of champagne, gathering two in his hands and passing two more to Theo. Then, he was commanding you all to follow him, and marching away without another word.

You shared a look with Enzo, before hopping down, following after him with an equally puzzled group. Your hand found Enzo’s quickly, a comfortable act that had become familiar far too quickly, but just for tonight, you didn’t care. Not as Mattheo led you down all and corridors, away from all the noise. 

Not as he led you all up, until you were exiting onto the roof. Below you, chatter filled the courtyard as the party guests began to file out onto the patio, ready to witness the fireworks. The view would be uninterrupted from here, a perfect view of it all, and a contented sound left your lips. 

Staring up at the night sky, stars twinkled in the cold void, and you rubbed one arm lightly as you stared into the vast openness. Only a second later, a jacket was slipping over your shoulders, and Enzo was turning you to him, guiding your arms through each of the sleeves, bashfully. 

“Told you I was a good date.” He winked, hand on your back as you followed the rest of your friends to sit down. 

“You said you were a fun date,”

“Well then, I’m a good and fun date.” He effectively ended the conversation with a kiss to your cheek, hand sliding dangerously low on your back as you gathered with the others. A couple of benches and boxes were up here, stacks of pallets for makeshift seating, and you settled onto one, Enzo following you down. 

Once you were sat, he pulled you in, tucking you into the heat of his side, and you curled in closer, twisting to face him. “Tonight has been… wonderful. Thank you.”

“Are you kidding? Thank you.” He whispered, nose brushing your hairline as the words were whispered onto your skin. “Tonight has been one of the best nights I’ve ever had, and I never thought I’d say that about one of these parties.”

You fiddled with the edge of the sleeves hanging over your palms, grinning at him. Your head fell to his shoulder, and your gaze moved to scan over your friends. Draco and Astoria were cuddling equally as sweetly, as were Blaise and Daphne. Luna and Pansy were nowhere to be seen, but Tom and Reggie stood at the edge of the roof, talking quietly. Mattheo and Theo were bent over laughing, trying to pop the corks on the bottles, and almost taking out each other’s eyes each time. 

When a bottle was passed to you and Enzo, fizzing over the top and foaming on the wooden palette you perched on, you took a sip. The bitter liquid fizzed on your tongue just as the countdown began to sound from all of the people below. 

“Ten, nine, eight…” Mattheo screamed, arms held up in the air with his excitement. 

“Seven, six, five…” You murmured, sitting up straighter as the anticipation of the new year came in. 

“Four, three, two…” Enzo joined you, your face turning to smile at him as you heard his voice mix with yours. 

“One.” You spoke, just as Enzo leaned in. His lips closed over your own, warm and spicy from the lingering remnants of firewhiskey, and you groaned against his mouth. As you did, his hand slipped up to your cheek, angling your head just right as his tongue slid into your mouth.

He kissed slow, and deep, like he had all the time in the world to be here. You were gripping his shoulder, kissing back with just as much passion, sliding closer to him until there was no space between your body and his. Your thigh pressed to his own, his hand on your cheek slipping into your hair as he pulled back for a breath, just to dive right back in. 

And you loved it, leaning forward, chasing his lips, kissing him until you couldn’t think straight, couldn't think at all, unless it was about him. 

Finally, he pulled back, to the cheering and celebrating of your friends as the New Year rolled in. Fireworks began to explode behind you, and you sighed, breath clouding in the night air and floating up to the sky. Licking the taste of him from your lip as you panted, his nose bumped your own.

“What was that for?” You mumbled, the way he kissed you still playing over and over again in your mind like a loop. 

“Because when we go back,” He stole another kiss, your lips stretching in a smile as his palm engulfed your cheek. “I’d love to take you on a real date.”

You’d never looked at him like this before, never let yourself consider what it would be like to date Enzo. That urge had never arisen, everything between you both had always been platonic, he was one of your best friends. Now, as those pretty eyes opened up to stare at you, he was anything but platonic. 

He was pretty, in a way you’d acknowledged but never appreciated before. Loyal in a best friend way, but would doubtless be a wonderful boyfriend. He was doting, and kind, and sweet. He was cheeky and funny and caring. He was here, and interested, and if tonight had proven anything, it was your compatibility. 

You and Enzo worked well together, you made a great couple, and for the first time ever, he was staring at you in a way that made you think he wanted to take your clothes off. And you liked it. 

The choice seemed clear. 

“I’d like that too, Enzo.”

[azriels-shadowsinger]

Confessions (Azriel x Reader)

summary: you and azriel are best friends, but his flirting with elain has become too much for you to bear, so you decide to try to move on.

wc: 3k

a/n: !!warning: mentions attempted SA!! This is the first real fic i have written in years so it’s probably shit but if you decide to read this thank u and i love u.

Read Part Two

For months now, you have been fairly upset about seeing Azriel pining after Elain, but even more annoyed that your friendship with him has become insignificant to him now that he spends all his time with her. About a decade ago, you decided that being hopelessly in love with Azriel was pointless since he would never see you that way, so you settled for friendship. It’s better to have him as a friend than not at all… or at least that’s what you’ve been telling yourself. Mor is the only one who knows about your crush and has kept your secret, but not without constant pestering to tell him how you feel.

“He’s in love with Elain, Mor. I’m over it and over him. I’m ready to move on.” You lie as best you can to her and to yourself.

“You’re so full of shit. But fine, I’ll play along. When we go out tonight, you’re finding someone to go home with!” She says excitedly while finishing her eyeliner. Mor forced you to put on a tight, navy party dress that barely covers your ass instead of letting you wear your go-to little black dress.

After she finishes getting ready, the two of you head down to your room to grab your lipstick, but when you open the door to the hallway, you see Azriel and Elain at the end of the hall whispering and standing only inches from each other. You ignore the ache in your chest at the sight and turn the opposite direction to head to your room, refusing to look behind you when you feel a pair of eyes staring at you.

———

Rita’s was crowded, as per usual. After about an hour of drinks and dancing, you were decently drunk and had forgotten all about Azriel… well almost.

“Can I buy you a drink?” You hear a male say from beside you. He’s tall and fairly handsome, but nowhere near Azriel’s level of attractiveness- damnit you need to get him out of your head!

“Sure. I’ll have what you’re having.” You try to say seductively, but it just comes out awkward. Gods, when was the last time you tried to flirt? He chuckles and orders your drink. Mor gives you a wink from across the bar and disappears into the crowd with a stranger.

After a while of talking, you decide this guy, Mikael, is exceptionally boring, but the night is almost over and he’s your only option. Anything to forget a certain dark and mysterious shadowsinger. Why not try to have fun?

“Do you want to come back to my place?” Mikael whispers in your ear. No reaction. If Azriel had been this close and whispered something to you, you would be all goosebumps and blushes, but with Mikael… nothing. Fuck, this is probably a bad idea. Maybe you should just go home and try again another night.

“Y/n?” His voice pulls you out of your daze. “I asked if you wanted to get out of here.” He says a bit annoyed while sliding a hand up your thigh. Gods, this guy is kinda an ass. This is definitely a bad idea.

“Um… I’m pretty tired. And I came here with a friend, so I should probably find her to make sure she gets home safe.” You slowly stand from your chair to leave. You immediately stumble and feel much dizzier than before. You were never good at handling your liquor, and apparently tonight was no exception… except you don’t remember drinking enough to feel this drunk. Mikael’s hand grabs your shoulder to stabilize you, but his grip feels too tight and he doesn’t let go once you balance yourself.

“Cmon honey. We were having a fun night, let’s keep it going.” He leans too close for comfort, giving you a slimy grin. You pull away and stumble back.

“I really should find my friend. I’m sorry!” You say nervously and look around for Mor. She’s nowhere in sight. Shit. She probably either left with that girl thinking you were gonna go home with Mikael or she’s lost in the crowd. Either way, you just need to get away from Mikael. You stumble towards the door, feeling dizzy and seeing double. Each step feels slower and heavier than the last, but you finally step outside, savoring the winter chill that will hopefully sober you up. Just as you take a step outside, you feel a hand grab your wrist too hard and pull you towards the alley next to Rita’s.

“I spent a lot of fucking money on your drinks tonight, so I’m not gonna ask again. You’re coming home with me.” Mikael’s whiskey breath is inches from your face, making you want to gag. You want to scream for help. You want to kick and fight back, but your body feels weak and your vision keeps getting blurrier. After a moment, you slump onto Mikael and he helps you walk down the sidewalk. To everyone else, you probably look like a drunk girl whose boyfriend is helping her home.

No. No no no. You need to get away. You need someone to notice you aren’t okay. How the fuck did this happen?

You hear a voice behind you and your feet stop moving. It’s too blurry and dark to see, but soon you’re on the ground and someone is yelling. You shut your eyes, accepting whatever horrible thing is about to happen to you. But suddenly you are in someone’s arms, and a moment later you’re inside somewhere. You open your eyes, and despite the blurriness, you recognize your blue curtains. You’re home. Somehow.

Mor must have found you and winnowed you home. Thank the gods for that. You are set on your bed and covered you with blankets.

“Thanks… thanks for finding me, Mor.” You slur and curl into your blankets. “I think that guy… put something in my drink.” Your voice trails off as you become incredibly sleepy and shut your eyes. Mor sits you up and forces you to drink some water. Your eyes feel too heavy to open, so you keep them shut.

“Just… don’t tell Azriel about this. It’s embarrassing enough to go looking for a quick fuck to get over my crush, but it’s even more embarrassing to get fucking drugged by someone in the process.” You get the words out slowly between sips. Thinking about everything that just happened tonight should make you want to cry and vomit, but you’re too tired to do so. When you finish the water, you lay back down and immediately fall asleep.

———

Your head is pounding and the sun is shining too bright. Someone is yelling outside your door. You roll over in bed, half expecting to see some male, but thankfully you are alone in your room. You don’t remember much from last night, but apparently your attempt at a one night stand was unsuccessful. Probably for the best.

The yelling gets louder.

“She was on the fucking sidewalk outside Rita’s!” You hear a male voice yell. Azriel’s voice. Why is Azriel here? And why is he so damn loud?

You slowly make your way out of bed and to the door so you can tell him to shut up, but as soon as you open the door, you see several worried faces staring back at you. Mor, Rhys, Cass, Feyre, and Azriel all stare at you. Mor looks like she’s crying and Azriel is red in the face with a murderous expression.

“Can you all shut up? I have a head-“ you start

“Y/n I’m so sorry!” Mor hugs you tight, almost knocking you over.

“What the…” you start to question before you’re cut off again.

“Do you know his name, y/n? I’ll make sure he is taken care of.” Rhys asks. His voice is gentle, but his face is full of anger.

“Like hell you will. I would’ve killed him last night if I didn’t have to get her back here. I should’ve fucking killed that piece of garbage.” Azriel mutters.

What the hell is going on? You pull away from Mor and face the group.

“Does anyone care to tell me what we’re talking about?” You ask cautiously while rubbing your temples in an attempt to alleviate your headache.

“Of course she doesn’t remember you guys. Give her some space.” Feyre says softly and leads you back inside your room with Mor. The three males protest, but Feyre gives them a stern look and shuts the door. “Sit down, y/n. I’ll tell you what’s happening.”

You sit on your bed and look between Feyre and Mor anxiously.

“You were found outside of Rita’s being carried by a stranger and you were close to unconscious. You’ve been asleep for almost the entire day now.”

You stare back in stunned silence. The memories slowly start to return, but before you can ask a question Mor starts tearing up again.

“You don’t know how sorry I am y/n. You were hitting it off with that guy and next thing I knew, you were gone. I thought you went home with him like you planned, but when Azriel told me-“

“Azriel? Wait… what?” You ask.

“Azriel found you and brought you back here. He made sure you were safe before finding me and going ballistic on me for not watching out for you. I’m so sorry I really didn’t mean to let you get hurt!” She cries again.

“I don’t understand. I vaguely remember someone bringing me home, but I could’ve sworn it was you, Mor, not Azriel.” They both shake their heads. You sit silently and process the information for a minute before saying the only thing that may be helpful in this moment.

“His name was Mikael. He had dark hair, hazel eyes, and wore a red shirt.” You whisper, still in shock. Feyre’s eyes glaze over for a moment as she relays this information to Rhys. Suddenly its completely quiet outside your door.

———

You spend the rest of the day in your room, still exhausted and fighting a hangover. Or the after effects from the drug… not sure. There’s a soft knock at your door.

“Come in.” You call out. Azriel slowly opens the door and walks in. You can tell he just got back and tried to clean up quickly, but there’s still a few smears of blood on him.

“Uh… hi.” You say awkwardly and motion for him to sit. Azriel sits on the end corner of your bed and looks at you with a mixture of anger and fear in his eyes. His shadows are swirling around you, as if to check that you are actually okay. They’ve always taken an interest in you, which you normally appreciate, but right now it just makes you feel guiltier for last night.

“Thank you for finding me last night. I probably wouldn’t be okay right now if you hadn’t.” You whisper, avoiding his gaze. He takes a deep breath, like he is trying to control himself.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” He mutters angrily. Azriel stands and starts pacing the room. “You could’ve been fucking killed!” He raises his voice.

“I know. I didn’t-“

“And then you go and say… fuck y/n!” He runs his hands over his face in frustration.

“I’m sorry, Az.” You whisper, fighting the tears that are building. Wait, why the hell is he mad at you? You didn’t drug yourself. “Azriel, it’s not like I planned for this to happen.” You say a bit annoyed. He lets out a cold laugh.

“Yeah, but you planned on going out to find someone to fuck. Wearing that fucking dress and letting that fucking worthless filth touch you.” He spits out angrily as his shadows swirl around your ankles.

“Okay look, I can do what I want and wear what I want. Why is it any of your business if I try to hook up with someone?” Your eyes burn and you fight the tears. “Obviously I wasn’t expecting someone to put something in my drink. I’ll be more careful next time!” You yell louder.

“Next time?” His voice drops to a whisper and he looks at you with an expression you can’t quite decipher.

“I don’t have to justify my actions to you, Azriel. Why do you even care? You’re never around anymore. Always too busy sneaking off with Elain to hang out with your best friend!” Hurt fills your voice. You hadn’t meant to let that last part slip out.

“Why are you bringing her into this?” His voice drops lower and his brow furrows.

“She has a mate, Azriel! What the hell are you doing?” You sigh and put your head in your hands. “I just miss you.”

He stops pacing and stares at you. “I’m right here. I haven’t gone anywhere.”

“Yes you have! I never see you anymore!” Its true. He never makes plans with you anymore and it has been tearing you apart. It’s strange that he was even at Rita’s in the first place, because he never wanted to go even before he ditched you for Elain. Wait, why was he there? “You were at Rita’s last night when you found me.” It’s not a question.

He nods.

“Why were you there?” He obviously wasn’t expecting you to ask that because panic flashes in his eyes for a brief moment. “I know you weren’t there with Elain because she hates it there. And I didn’t see you inside with the guys.” I try to remember him outside the bar, but it’s all fuzzy.

“I was worried.” He mutters so quiet you barely hear.

“What?”

“I was worried about you y/n!” You look at him surprised. “I saw you in the hall ready to go out in that dress. God, that fucking dress. And the entire night I kept thinking about something bad happening. So I waited outside to make sure you and Mor were safe. And then I saw that fucking piece of shit with his hands on you and I just…” he trails off and takes a deep breath. “If something had happened to you… if I hadn’t been there to stop it…” His expression looks angry again.

You pause and process his words. He almost sounds jealous. But that can’t be it. Because he has no reason to be jealous.

He sighs again and continues with a softer voice. “Do you remember anything after you left?” He asks with a hint of desperation in his voice. You think hard for a moment. You thought Mor got you home and you told her what happened. But it wasn’t Mor. It was Azriel. And then you said not to tell Azriel because… fuck. Your eyes go wide.

Azriel stalks closer and is inches from you. “Do you remember what you said? Was that the drug talking or you?” He whispers low and gets closer, his eyes searching yours for an answer. This cannot be happening. If you thought your friendship was screwed before, this is definitely the final straw.

“Az…” you whisper.

“Tell me.” His voice is demanding.

“I don’t-“ you start, but Azriel turns and runs his hands over his face in frustration. He stays facing away from you, muttering something to himself.

“Azriel, I cant. You already avoid me as it is. I don’t think I can handle losing you as a friend. Losing you completely.” He obviously already knows, but saying it feels too real. Your words cause him to turn back around and get closer to you. Azriel leans over you, caging you against the bed in between his arms and stares at you silently for a moment. His shadows have stilled completely around you two. There’s something desperate in his eyes. He’s so close, closer than he has been in months. Hell, he’s closer than he’s been ever. You look from his eyes to his lips for a split second, mesmerized by the way he barely bites his bottom lip.

“Fuck it.” He mutters. Before you can ask what, he crashes his lips into yours. You freeze for a moment in shock, before melting into his touch. He lets out a low groan as you wrap your arms around him and pull him closer. His calloused hands wrap into your hair and tug slightly, earning a small whimper from you. It takes several moments before you come up for air.

“Azriel… I don’t understand.” You ask breathlessly.

“Please tell me what you said last night is true. That you feel the way I feel.” He rests his forehead on yours.

“What about Elain?”

“I don’t care about Elain! I care about you! She knows that I’m in l-“ He pauses and takes a breath. “I was trying to get over you.” He grabs your chin softly and pulls your face to meet his. “It’s always been you, y/n. Please.”

You stare silently in shock for several moments. “Y/n…” Azriel’s voice pulls you from your trance and you realize he’s waiting for you to answer.

Just as you are about to respond, there is a knock on the door. Azriel quickly pulls away and sits on the edge of the bed away from you, as if nothing were happening.

“Come in!” You call out softly, and Feyre opens the door holding a plate of food.

“I should go.” Azriel says quietly and heads towards the door.

“Wait.” You try to stop him, but he keeps walking.

“I’m just glad you’re okay, y/n.” Azriel opens the door and leaves without a second glance. His shadows remain for a moment, before quickly retreating, as if being called to follow. Feyre gives you a questioning look, but you just shake your head and fall back onto the bed, finally letting the tears flow freely.

thank you for reading!! :)

Read Part Two

[mulansaucey]

Drunk Words, Sober Thoughts.

Azriel x Reader

Prompt: Rita has a new supply of Moonshine and gives a jar to the IC. This creates a blacked out drunk Azriel.

Warnings: alcohol use, flirting, suggestive, mentions of sex, drunken behavior. Let me know if I left anything out.

Note: Literally sitting in bed when I had this idea. This is just for fun and I hope you enjoy!

Music playing in the halls of Rita’s surrounds the Inner Circle as well as laughter. Shot glasses banging against their table, squeals of joy from seeing the glasses of those pretty cocktails that Feyre and Mor like so much, and the beautiful smile that graces my mates face. Tonight is for fun and bonding.

Azriel has been on a month long mission just returning to me a few days ago where we cooped up in our cozy home, enjoying the song of our mating bond before returning to society. When he’s gone, there’s a hole in my chest. Color, music, art becomes void. Life is not as exciting without him by my side. Even after decades of being married and mated the bond is still alive and thriving as if it was still the night he took a bite out of that meal I made him to accept him as my mate.

I’m an accomplished fae. I’ve strategized wars, wrote countless books on the plant life of Prythian that has helped healers cultivate new medicines, and have helped the Inner Circle for almost two centuries now. When he’s away, I keep myself occupied and have my job to thank for that but that aching feeling doesn’t go away.

That’s the strength of a mating bond, it brings males to their knees. It brought Azriel to his. Our souls submitting to one another and refusing to settle for anything less than each other.

“What’s so interesting, love?” Azriel teases as I can’t my eyes off him. Those hazel eyes trail over me, even in the haze of faelights it feels like he can see every inch of me. He bites his lip as if he’s recalling just a few hours ago when he was biting the meat of my thighs. I know I am. Heat rises in my cheeks as he laughs and leans down to the leg of my chair and pulls me closer to him. The bond between thrums with satisfaction that our beings are even closer now. His hand finds the back of my neck and he caresses.

“You, my heart. I can’t seem to take my eyes off of you.” I tease him back.

The shots making my mind looser and my flirty tendencies arise. I’m a horny drunk when it comes to this male. Who wouldn’t?

Azriel raises his brows and smirks. He leans down to press a sweet kiss then pulls back.

“You are lovely in this dress. I can’t wait to rip it off you tonight.” He says as he presses sweet kisses along my cheek and jaw.

“Azriel you better not! It’s embarrassing having to keep going to the tailor because you have no self control.”

“Self control? We’ll see how much self control I have later, you’ll begging for me I promise you that.” He laughs.

Suddenly a heavy presence can be felt behind us. I don’t even have to turn to know it’s Cassian.

He slaps the back of Azriel’s chair and loudly yells, “Stop the heavy petting and come to the bar, Rita just got a new drink called ‘Moonshine’ it’s apparently a lot stronger than any wine or whiskey.”

Cassian doesn’t wait for an answer and picks me up while yelling over his shoulder, “If you want her, Az you gotta come get her!” We leave a trail of giggles as my grumpy mate follows.

Azriel trusts his brother and knows Cassian just missed him and wants to have fun. It’s why he doesn’t cut off his hands for touching my body.

Cassian drops me on a bar stool and leans over to drop a sloppy kiss to Nesta’s cheek as she bats him. From the corner of my eye though I can see her pulling him back to her to give him a proper kiss. I’m happy for my friends as they had a very tumultuous start to their mate ship. As I’m trying not to be nosy in my friends business Azriel comes to stand behind me, strategically blocking me from any other males or females view. Azriel is selfish when it comes to me. I can’t blame him, he’s waited centuries for me. And I him.

Rita walks up to us with a jar of clear liquid. It looks innocent, like water, but knowing her that liquid will make you regret ever being born. But that’s the appeal to Rita. She knows how to have fun and has quality supply.

“Alright ladies and gentlebats this is Moonshine. It’s technically whiskey but its process makes the alcohol stronger and you drunker quicker. I will give you a shot, on the house, if you like it I’ll sell a jar to you. This stuff is no joke and illegal in some courts. More recently our High Lord and Lady gave me the okay to produce it.” Rita winks to Feyre and Rhys.

We all look over them and Rhys shrugs, “Feyre wanted to try it, I couldn’t say no.”

We all laugh at the lack of ability our friend has to say no to his wife. I see Feyre eye the glass with excitement.

“Feyre you do the honors of first shot!” I yell out as she takes the glass and downs it in one gulp.

She freezes and we wait on bated breath. Her eye twitches and she gives a full body shiver. We break in laughter at her funny reaction as she immediately takes her fruity cocktail from Rhys, who was mid sip, and takes a few gulps.

Feyre’s face twist in disgust as she tells us, “That’ll definitely get you fucked up, I feel like I’ve grown chest hair.”

Laughter fills our area again. Rhys presses a kiss against Feyre’s head as he reaches for his own shot glass. Each of us besides Amren and Varian, who are currently in Summer, reach for our own. I clank my shot glass against Azriel’s and down my shot. I immediately regret this decision as pure alcohol burns my throat. It’s worse than the tonics Madja gives us. At least we get some what rewarded for that. I put my glass down and look over at my mate. His free hand softly rubbing my upper back, he downs the shot and smack his lips.

“It’s definitely strong but I don’t mind it.” Azriel says to the group.

I pout at him and say, “Of course it doesn’t bother you, Shadowsinger.” He rolls his eyes and moves his hand from the back of my neck to the front. Slowly moving my head back so far I have no choice but to look at him and only him.

“It’s Shadowsinger now is it?” He smirks down at me. Before I can reply peanuts that Rita supplies generously across her bar are being pelted at us. Azriel loosens his hold on me as we both turn to our family.

“You two are like bunnies, I feel like I need to spray you two with a bottle of water.” Nesta says.

I gasp and laugh out, “Like you have any room to talk! The House of Wind is contaminated with you and Cassian’s fluids.” All I get is more peanuts being thrown at me. The two of us dissolve into giggles as I throw them back at her. Cassian and Azriel having to take it away.

Cassian then turns his attention to Rita watching us in amusement.

“We’ll take a jar please, you always know how to make me feel good.” He winks at her. Rita rolls her eyes and passes him the jar.

“I’m charging you extra for that little stunt.” She says back to him.

“Oh c’mon that was a compliment! You’ve got the best stuff in the city.” He argues as Nesta shushes him. Nesta opted out of drinking, instead preferring to smoke mirthroot.

We all go back to our designated booth empty shit glasses in tow. We decide to play truth or drink. Azriel being the secretive person he is rather take the shot then tell the truth. I have a feeling he just wants to indulge the rare drink. I don’t blame him, he works hard for his court and he’s allowed to drop his inhibitions. Ever since we’ve gotten together I’ve taught him about self care and allowing one self to enjoy the moment. The centuries of training and spy work are still instilled in him, something even I can’t take away. But with the love of his mate and family he’s allowed himself to be happy.

I didn’t like the moonshine so I stuck to my cocktails then water, as I had a feeling someone needed to be more sober than the others. Azriel takes his eighth shot when he freezes. I still, looking around to see if anything was amiss. When I look back at him I see him smiling.

“You are a rare jewel.” He says so casually. Looking at me like I’m the only person in the world. He reaches over to brush my hair out of my eyes when instead he pokes me. This clumsy move tells me, he’s drunk. He giggles as I jump back slightly from a literal finger poking my eye.

“I’m so sorry love. Wow your skin is so soft.” Azriel starts touching my face in fascination. He then pulls me into his strong embrace. The awkward is angle but he just sighs constantly. Happy to be holding me. He starts petting my hair as if I’m a cute kitten.

The confused yet amused looks across the table have me pulling back from my mates embrace when he loudly says, “Noooooo, don’t leave me. I was so comfortable.”

I can hear and see Rhys and Cass laughing and clutching each other. Azriel RARELY gets drunk. I feel bad, maybe I should’ve limited how much he could drink since it’s not his usual stuff. Azriel has a fairly high tolerance for his usual whiskey or beer. Eight shots of his regular choice of drink would be nothing but him drinking moonshine has him reacting differently. I feel a little guilty but Azriel has carried me home and taken care of me plenty of times. Tonight I promise myself to return the favor.

“I know my heart, but I need a glass of water and so do you. I’ll be right back, I promise.” I caress his face and he looks at me with so much love I almost don’t want to go even if it’s a few minutes.

“Okay, hurry back. Take a shadow.” He says with a pout. A shadow always sticks with me regardless of his command or not. I shove my love down our bond for his thoughtfulness. Azriel gives me a goofy grin and pushes his love down to me.

“I need a drink, c’mon. Lover boy will be just fine.” Feyre says as she drags me away from my mate.

His eyes trailing after me until Cass and Rhys grab his shoulders to get his attention. Knowing my mate is in safe hands has me turning to Feyre. We talk a little about her art studio and Nyx. She confesses to having a bit of Mom guilt when she goes out. The alcohol making her a bit weepy from missing her son. I distract her by dragging her to the dance floor, after checking to make sure Azriel was still with the boys and has a glass of water.

After a few songs Mor and Nesta join us. I still keep an eye on my mate, making sure he’s okay and having fun. The next time I turn my eyes to him he’s gone. Panic fills my chest as I look around the bar for him. When I look up to the second floor I see him and his brother attempting to climb the rail. At that moment I decide it’s time to go home. I grab the girls and haul their asses the second floor before any of our mates cracks their skull open. The boys had way more moonshine than we did.

We successfully get them away from the railing, I grab Azriel’s face and he gently shoves me off of him. I frown at him, water lining my eyes at his rejection towards me. I go to ask him what’s wrong but before I do he tells me, “I am a mated male! You can not touch me.”

He sways a little grabbing onto Rhys for support. Rhys is already getting yelled at by his High Lady but she stops to turn to Azriel in amusement.

“What did he just say?” Feyre says to me. I stay silent for a moment realizing the situation. I slightly smile at my mates loyalty even though it is me who is touching him. I tell Feyre to grab Rhys and I can handle Azriel.

“Azriel, my heart. It’s me, I’m your mate.” I tell him gently helping him find his balance.

“I don’t want to go home with you. I want my mate. She will take care of me. I don’t need you.” As he’s still struggling to walk. I ignore him and help him down the stairs all the while he’s protesting insisting he has a wife and mate waiting for him at home. I roll my eyes fondly. Knowing it’s going to a rough walk home. He insists that I only touch his arm.

“I am a gentleman and my wife would be mad I let you walk home alone but I am not sharing a bed with you. She is only one I share my bed with. I love her.” He says to me, total seriousness.

I take a look at him noting his shirt is wrinkled from Cassian constantly grabbing onto him, his hair is wild, and his walk is staggered. I make a mental note to never let him drink Moonshine again. He trips slightly making me grab onto his back and front. He looks at me weirdly and takes my hands off his body.

“I don’t know youuuu. My body is reserved for my wife, I am fine with walking on my own.” His words are sloppy and he trips again. Laughing at him I ignore his protests and guide him to our shared home. The walk is a struggle as he keeps tripping yet insisting I keep my hands off him. I shove my love down the bond hoping he’ll recognize me that way. I feel more assured that even if I wasn’t with him and he was drunk he’d always come home to me. I hear him sigh with content and he lazily slaps his chest.

“This here, in my heart, she’s calling to me. I need to go home to her. I can feel her. I want to go home.” He pouts.

“Okay big guy, I’m gonna get you home to her. I’m sure she misses you.” I say, playing along. If I play along I’m hoping it’ll make him more amiable.

“She does! I can feel her even when I’m miles and miles away. I miss her too. Sometimes when I’m in the same room as her, I miss her. I just want her all to my self.” He confesses, I notice he’s started to slowly relax letting me guide him home. The thought of seeing me being his motivator. My heart is fluttering seeing him like this. Azriel is usually so smooth and calculated. His words to me sound like poetry, like a crafted song made just for me to hear. Now he’s confessing his love to, how he perceives, a stranger. Apart of me knows that he must know it’s me. Even if it’s deep down. But I can’t help but feel so special to him.

I finally spot our home, the sight of our porch makes me let an out a sound of relief.

Azriel looks to what I see and goes, “How do you know where I live? I don’t remember telling you. I wouldn’t have told you! I told you that I don’t want to go home with you.” He pushes himself away from me stumbling to our small gate. He struggled to unlock and me being exhausted from helping a 6’5 Illryian male slap his hands away and move to open it. He rubs his hand where I slapped and looks at me with a pout.

“Oh you’re okay! Stop being a baby and come inside please.” I tell him, laughing lightly at him. He moves to walk past me but turns before I can even take a step on the porch.

“This is as far as you can go. My wife will not be disrespected by having another female in our home.” He says with a serious face. The message isn’t as threatening since he’s still swaying and eyes glossed over. I smile at him and make a move to walk around him but he pushes his arms out, clumsily I might add, and repeats what he just said. I hold my arms up in surrender to this ridiculous statement.

“Azriel, my heart. I am your wife, you are mated to me. And I want to be in our bed and snuggle. Don’t you?” I ask giving him my best puppy dog eye. I don’t even know if it’ll work if the liquor made him forget who I was entirely. He goes to reply when he bends over to his side and pukes. I rush to his side and rub his back. He stand up again and leans against a pillar on our porch. His face smushed against it I can faintly hear.

“I want my mate…I’m not going home with you.” I roll eyes, trying not to get upset with him because it isn’t his fault and I know I’m not a doll to be around when I’m drunk. I walk towards our door, it unlocks automatically due to the ward Azriel insisted on placing. I try to gently push him inside. His wings knocking over a vase I was gifted from a past High Lord of Summer, I grimace as the antique lays broken on the floor. He looks around for what made the loud sound and he gasps loudly as if I was the one broken on the floor.

“My wife is going to kill me! Fuck, fuck, shit. Oh my gods I need to go to summer now! I need to go before she notices it’s broken.” He says making a move for the door. I immediately put a stop to that and drag him to our bedroom. I think he’s exhausted himself and flops down on the bed. Not making any moves. I start unlacing his boot and once I’ve got them off I go for his pants.

He slaps my hands away and goes, “I can undress myself. You have no right to touch me there! Go home before my wife finds you, she’ll kill you. My mate is verrrry possessive of me. She won’t like youuuu.” He sings at me.

He starts giggling and taking off his pants and shirt while moving to grab my pillow and holds onto it like it’s the answer of all his prayers.

“I miss her so much. I’m in bed but she isn’t here. It smells like her, I never want to smell anything again. Only her.” I make a face at him, I didn’t see how that makes sense but he’s drunk so I don’t question it. I make sure he has a glass of water and is tucked into bed before I make my move to join him. As soon as I start to move the cover he jolts back up, still clutching my pillow.

“Thank you for taking me home but I insist you take the couch. I will never share a bed with another female. I will not have our marriage bed tainted by a stranger.” He says eyeing me like I’m the King of Hybern resurrected.

“Enough, sweetheart. Tonight has been really funny and sweet but I want to sleep. Don’t you want to cuddle?” I say, I glance at the clock noting the late hour. He doesn’t make a move and stays silent. Giving me the answer I needed.

“As I stated you can take the couch as thank you but you have to leave before my WIFE comes home.” Azriel states, emphasizing the wife part as if I’m the drunken one.

“Okay I give up, I’m sleeping on the couch. Goodnight my love.” I say stealing a quick kiss from him that leaves him stuttering and blushing.

“Y-you just kissed me! That’s so rude, that’s-“ I close the door cutting off his rant. I go down the hall for our closet where we keep the extra blankets and pillows. I settle in our large and comfy couch that Azriel insisted on getting when we moved in. I’m now thankful he insisted. I start laughing recalling the night. Tonight was stressful but has shown me how loved I am. I have a male who’s loyal and kind. Even when he thought I was a stranger he wanted to walk me home so I wasn’t alone. I’m thankful to call him mine. I’m thankful to be his. I drift off to sleep with a soft smile, excited to tease him to no end in the morning for this stunt he pulled tonight.

——

Sunlight enters my home, the warmth of it caressing my cheek. I nuzzle closer to the warmth when I realize it’s Azriel’s hand. He’s sitting on the floor, his hair is a mess and he’s laying his head down close to mine. His eyes look groggy and I can tell he didn’t have a good sleep.

“Where were you last night? I couldn’t sleep without you.” He whispers gently, as if the sound of his own voice made his head ache.

I start laughing loudly, Azriel flinching back and rubbing his head. I start laughing so hard I start crying. My mate looks at me unamused.

“I’m sorry my love. But you literally kicked me out of our bed and made me sleep here. You insisted.” I tell him, laughter seeping through my words.

His mouth drops down in shock. He’s still rubbing his head and I feel bad so I start massaging his scalp the way I know he likes. I gets himself up off the floor and into my awaiting arms. Azriel secretly loves being the small spoon so I baby him and rub down his back and up into his scalp. The mating bond compelling me to make sure he’s okay and loved.

I start recalling the night for him. Apparently after that eighth shot he completely blacked out. He doesn’t remember a single thing from last night past that point. He grumbles and hides his face in my neck. His words coming out muffled.

“I’m so sorry. I hate not being in control like that. I’m sorry for treating you like that.” He says while pressing kisses on my neck and he squeezes me even tighter.

“It’s okay, you’ve taken care of me plenty of times when I’m drunk. I’m glad you were having fun and it was really sweet of you to defend my honor and our bond even if it was me. I love you so much for it.” I tell him making sure his eyes were on me. I cradled his face, caressing the scars and stubble that reside there. He leans down to give me soft kiss once, twice, three times before he nuzzles his nose against mine.

Azriel may be hard to read, stoic, and cold to everyone else but here, in the privacy and intimacy of our home he’s lovable and soft. A privilege to be able to see this of side. The decades of trust and memories helping him become a more loving person.

“How are you feeling though?” I ask him, he groans and lays his head down.

“I feel like absolute death. Actually death would be more merciful than what I’m feeling now.” My mate, the dramatic. I go to move to make him some tea and a light meal for his tummy but he just holds me tighter.

“Just stay for a little longer, I finally feel better now that I’m with you.”

Who am I to resist and say no? So I settle in and relishbeing with my mate and husband. Enjoying a quiet morning after such a loud night.

[sakuraryomen01]

Valentino /Sukuna Ryomen x Fem! Reader/ .11 [Slight Nsfw]

warnings: asshole sukuna, college prep. school (aka bitch u at an expensive ass school), former friends to lovers, slow burned love, yuji is sukuna's little brother, ec project with Nickolas the transfer student, drunk sukuna shows up at the dorm(!?), a small makeout session, some sexual touching and mentions of grinding/humping at readers thighs, caring for this stressed out man-slut, ooc sukuna.

reader: female reader; 23 years of age, college prep.

plot: It's been years since you've moved from country life, since you've forgotten about all the things you used to love about your hometown and where you grew up from... you didn't think it'd chase you to college in the city after almost a decade..

words: 5.036k

fanfic masterlist: .o1 .o2 .o3 .o4 .o5 .o6 .o7 .o8 .o9 .10 .11 .12 .13 .14 .15 .16 .17 .18 .19 .20

a/n: hey guys! sorry for the delay ^^ i've been wanting to get some chapters drafted before posting them! ty sm for the patience i hope u enjoy and r ready for the upcoming drama between sukuna and y/n!

a/n 2: so so sooooo sorry for being three days later after saying i'd be posting right away!!>< I was with family and the wifi was being iffy the last few days. I couldn't access many of my socials and much less work on the final draft of the chapter!! i powered thro until i was satified and it's finally here! i hope you enjoy!!

chapter/idea cred to: @misslauravillanueva i needed to give credit for the help! i was struggling on what to do!><

. . .

Thank you for reading this! Enjoy!

“Achoo!”

“Ah, are you alright?” Geto’s cool tone echoed from the kitchen, his brow raised with a curious expression written on his face. “Coming down with something? I told you to relax from studying for a while–”

“It’s not that!” You huff, cheeks burning with embarrassment. ”I just sneezed. I don’t know why though..”

“Okay, relax. I’m not gonna get upset.”

With a pout, you leaned against the armrest of the couch. Bowl of mac and cheese with little hot dogs in hand and a Coke on the coffee table. Eyes returning back to the TV screen and watching the current crime show playing, listening to the crimes that the murderer committed as he was handed a death sentence. 

Sometimes, when I let my mind wander to Sukuna.. It feels like that.

The idea that he’s now stuck on your mind despite all the anger he had towards you. The almost strange obsession and addiction to the idea of him. While you’ve been repetitively trying to control these new emotions and thoughts, you couldn’t help it. Seeing Sukuna that day in Ec class all those days ago. Having to tutor him. Even dealing with his weird smirks and teasing.

..That kiss too..

“Your face is doing that thing again, Y/n,” Geto’s voice chirped out of nowhere, causing you to jolt in your spot. “So jumpy over a guy? You know therapy exists, right?”

Returning a rather poorly chosen burn, Geto stood from his spot on the couch and waved a hand at you. Grabbing his things and his shoes from the carpet near the door, he sent you another telling look.

“If you're this upset, just ask what's up. Seriously, seeing you get stressed over this is kinda.. sad.”

There was a stabbing pain in your chest. You knew.

“Good night to you too, Suguru,” You hum, leaning on your fist as the door closed with a click. Leaving you alone in the dormitory for a few moments.

Your thoughts clouding your headspace until you decided to go to bed. Unable to understand this dreadful lil thing people called love, unable to understand why Sukuna Ryomen had crawled his way into your heart just by being an ass.

Tomorrow is another day.. Right?

. . .

“Today we'll be picking partners for class projects!”

Eh?? Ehhhhh????

You blinked a few times at the announcement, looking down towards Toji as students began to groan and complain a little. Quickly these were silenced as Toji lifted a stack of papers and chuckled deeply in his husky voice.

“It's not my problem, just get them done. You have two weeks to do it, so get your partners. The class is uneven so be ready for one of y'all's groups to have an extra person. It's a self-pick topic type of thing so start discussing today or tomorrow your topic and go with it!”

Toji tapped the papers on his desk and sat, letting his tie loose as he started relaxing for the rest of the period.

“If you need suggestions for your topic, there's a list in here along with your presentation requirements. I expect all names and correct citations with these as well.”

You let out a small groan and rub your temple. Not only were you stressed, now you had to deal with this? Extra shifts at work couldn't save you from this type of annoyance. It's not that you hated group projects, it's just a small tick when half of them throw the work onto you.

Pros and cons. Pros– none. Cons– work was usually tossed onto you.

You stood from your desk and began making your way down the steps to grab a paper. A strange chill ran up your spine as you passed Sukuna’s. Sparing a glance over, your cheeks warmed almost immediately.

Some bits of hair were pinned back and a pen rested on an ear. His shirt had a few buttons undone with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Black pants tight enough to have made a bakery spawn on the seat he sat upon. He looked really handsome, daring to battle even Toji’s good looks, and it was getting to you. 

What hit the nail in the coffin is when he just so happened to catch you ogling with your tongue practically hanging out of your mouth. His eyes sharpened at your expression as a smirk curled at the corners of his lips.

An almost playful yet teasing smile you weren't used to seeing on his face caught you off guard. It made your face hot, and your shame grow a few beats in that moment.

“Stop creeping” was basically what his face was saying.

Letting out a strained cough, you covered your face and made your way back up to your desk. Positive that his eyes had followed you all the way up the stairs before you sat in your spot. Hiding behind the paper and some random book you grabbed from your bag.

You couldn't be more obvious, could you?

While fellow students started to shift in their seats and partner up with friends and just random buddies from in the room, Sukuna was swarmed with a small audience of girls as he stood from his seat to also fetch a paper. The guys that sat around him gave him annoyed side-eyes and snorts as he absorbed the attention from all the women in the room. 

“Sukuna, do you wanna partner with me?” One asked, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose and letting the blush on her cheeks show.

“Me too, we could all do it together!” Another spoke up, poking her button nose into their conversation. Her bright green eyes staring up at Sukuna with a needy gleam.

It makes you confused to an extent, making you press your brows together as you look to the side. Sukuna probably thought that's what you looked like every time you saw him. It makes your heart ache and head throb, another grand headache to your already upsetting day.

Just let your mind be normal for once in your life.

You begin to gather your things and part from the room, the hustle and bustle of the classroom quietly fading into the background. Letting out a relaxed sigh as the sight of your bed creeped into the corners of your mind– oh, how you wished to be relaxing in bed with your favorite stuffy.

“Hello, miss? Would you like to be my partner for the project?” A voice suddenly called from behind you, somewhat echoing throughout the quiet hallways. It startled you since you didn’t expect anyone to follow you out of the classroom asking such a thing, it piqued your interest.

Lifting your head, you come face to face with someone you didn’t know.

His dark hair was up in a bun with his undercut showing behind his pierced ears, a kind smile flashing behind yet another piercing on his lip. Tanned skin that seemed to glow like it was pampered with the best beauty products around, not a scar or pimple in sight. Cute dimples at the corners of his lips adding to his boyish charm while his honey eyes gleamed at you. It reminded you of Yuji in a sense, but this was not Yuji.

You’ve never seen this guy before– a really cute one at that.

“Hello,” you say, momentarily stunned at the stranger, letting your hand weakly wave. “Uhm, partner?”

There was an adorable chuckle that furthered your stunned silence before you heard a response. “Yes, I saw you walk out here alone and thought you might need one.”

You take in a deep breath, regaining your composure quickly and patting yourself down. “Ah, right. I actually don’t like having a partner, my past experiences have led me to conclude that they’re not the best option for a project. Besides, I’m a big girl, I can handle one on my own.”

“I can see why,” He starts, looking back at the classroom with the still clamoring students before returning his attention to you. “That horde in there was after one guy, they don’t care about this project. I was actually about to do the same as you when I saw my choices were so low.”

Rubbing a big calloused hand over his nape, the strangers’ almond eyes looked from the empty halls and to you, his smile sheepish. “Please? Don’t make me beg now.”

There was a small silence between you and the stranger as you considered walking off and letting him go with his original plan before the Economics class erupted with whines as Sukuna and a girl walked from inside. The color left your cheeks, seeing the girl’s arm wrapped tightly around Sukuna’s. Looking as if he was protecting her from the growing crowd of the class, engaging in an active conversation as they walked on by.

Your heart sank sharply, seeing Sukuna letting someone else into his circle. He used to be so cold, so annoyed with people when he was younger. Only letting you really hold him that close, giving you nuzzles of appreciation since he didn’t like to say it aloud.

Now, he gives you the cold shoulder and holds others that aren’t you close.

Without letting your head finish its last thought and your eyes still trained on the back of Sukuna’s head, you gave a nod and looked back at the stranger. “Sure. I’m Y/n L/n, by the way.”

“Really? That’s great!” He smiled, the warmth of his company lightening your mood sufficiently more than it was a few moments ago. “My name’s Nickolas Alveres, it’s nice to meet you, L/n.”

The both of you share a smile for a second before Nickolas nods down the hall, motioning for the both of you to head to your next classes. He doesn’t wait for you to join him, but you do anyway. Trying to make small talk with him as you try to get to know your partner, letting the smile on your lips stick.

While you wore a smile, someone else had a frown. A deep scowl, if you will. You didn’t feel it, but Sukuna’s partner saw it.

She raised a brow, cheeks tinted a slight color as she cast her gaze in the same direction. Seeing you close to another man, only escalating the befuddlement.

“What’s wrong, Sukuna?”

A disgruntled look was plastered all over said man’s face, his frown so prominent it was a waste of time to even attempt to hide it. A chasm of wrinkles forming on his forehead as his brows pressed together at the sight before him. Watching the way you and some kid walked side by side with a smile on your face, not a care in the world.

When did you get so chummy?

“It’s nothing.. Let’s go, Haru,” He said, not sparing a second to look back at you. With a huff, he pulled his work partner, Haru, with him to the nearby library to find a good subject for this project.

It’s what he wanted anyways.. right?

. . .

“Wait, wait.. He punched Gojo in the face?!” Nickolas laughed, holding his cup up to his lips quickly to cover his giggles and chuckles. His nose crinkled up as they continued despite his obvious resistance. “He must’ve been drunk too to get so defensive!! I thought he was just a jerk most of the time.”

“Usually he is,” You start, crossing your legs under the coffee table. Looking over some of the notebooks the both of you had sprawled out onto the wood to look for any good topics to talk about in the presentation. Quickly, you scribbled out one, taking a sip from your cup and looking back up to Nickolas. “Recently though, he’s been alright. Not as mean as he used to be, but not one-hundred percent rude and annoying.”

A calm silence filled the air as Nickolas rested his work in his lap, taking a moment to look from them to you. “Speaking of, how long have you known this guy? You talk about him like he’s an old friend.”

The corner of your lips twitch upwards for a short second before you let your face relax. “He was. Not really interested in joining forces again recently.”

Nickolas nodded his head in understanding, eyes glazing over somewhat on what response to give. Seeing that the idea of this guy somehow hurt you, it got him concerned. Why bother letting him get to you so deeply if this is the result? It doesn’t make sense.

“Don’t let it get to you too much, Y/n,” He mustered after a short silence, placing his cup on the coffee table and letting his ring tap against the plastic. “If he’s still letting you be this close, even helping you care for a friend, that’s gotta be something.”

You nod numbly, knowing the obvious has been said too many times. Talk to him, ask him how he’s doing about the relationship, what does he want from you? The same three things that you always wanted to say when you were with him, but how. Other than tutoring, other than being near each other in class, you and Sukuna spent little to no time together.

All you remember about him is that he was the tough kid in school with home problems that liked to play tag and hide and seek. That he scared you with bugs and frogs while at the lake or near the Willow tree. The fond memories you shared with him couldn’t be the only factor that you had to use to judge what you wanted, you had to be around him more.

How was going to be the hardest puzzle to solve.

“Oh well,” Nickolas yawned, stretching his arms over his head. “It’s about time i get headed to my dorm. I have an early class tomorrow. I’ll leave you my number so that we can plan meetings for the project!”

Jokes and laughter filled the room as you and your partner exchanged information when there was a loud commotion at the door. You glanced from Nickolas to the dorm door and let out a light hearted chuckle, waving your hands next to your head.

“Ah, I’ll go get that! Gather your things, okay?”

Nickolas nodded and turned to his open binder and mess of notebook paper splayed on the coffee table, humming to himself as you rushed over to the front door. Hair stood at attention when you opened that door, seeing a messed up man laying on the hallway floor. A big wine bottle squeezed tightly in his right hand, the other placed next to his head on the floor.

His voice came out in gentle hums of some random rock song, lyrics jumping out from his mouth every second or so in a drunken daze. His fluffy hair was messy and almost unrecognizable until you realized who it was.

It was Sukuna.

“Wh.. What are you doing here?” You shout, shocked at his arrival, but there was not really a response. Only his hand raising to wave his finger around to the hum of his song. “Sukuna, answer me!!”

“..rather be.. Than lonely..”

Letting out a sigh, you look back at Nickolas and see his confused face staring at the gap between you and the door down at Sukuna. He stood there ready to go with his bag strap on his shoulder and keys in hand, giving you quick glances for some semblance of an answer. You give a small shrug, looking back to the immobile man on the ground.

Gently, you kick at one of his legs to try and get something out of him. “Sukuna, get up!”

Not a single thing, just a grunt and a tussle before your eyes finally connect with glazed ones. Maroon pools that were foggy beyond belief, not having a thought behind them. Nickolas tilts his head to the side and shakes it, giving you a pat on the arm and a sheepish smile.

“I'll get out of your hair, Y/n. Good luck!”

You step out of the man’s way, looking down at the disgruntled Sukuna and give a weak chuckle. Parting ways with Nickolas for the evening and kneeling down to Sukuna and shaking his shoulder. “Sukuna, you’ll get sick, get up.”

“..Doesn’t matter,” Sukuna mumbled, closing his eyes and taking a sip of his drink. “F’m sick, I’ll just be sick..”

“It does matter, now get up.”

You did your best to pull Sukuna up by his arm and into a sitting position, hooking the limp appendage over your shoulder and lifting him up onto his feet. It was a struggle since Sukuna was so heavy, but you managed. The stench of alcohol reeked from his breath and shirt, mixes of dirt and some stains that you didn’t feel the need to ask where they came from. 

Stumbling into your dormitory you freed the near empty beer bottle from Sukuna’s grasp and pulled the door close. He wasn’t giving much fight– probably due to the amount he drank– and just leaned his weight onto you. Mumbling to himself about things you weren’t going to pressure him into answering. Still, it made you wonder.

What the hell drove him to come to my place?

Surely, he wouldn’t mind answering that.

With a huff to your lips you plopped Sukuna’s heavy ass onto the couch and folded your arms. The beer bottle in your hand swirling around as you rotate your wrist ever so slightly, brow raising at Sukuna’s nearly asleep form. It was odd to see the big, strong and mean Sukuna Ryomen on his last leg from intoxication. 

Despite this, you found it cute.

“I’ll go get you some water and maybe a change of clothes,” You announce, tilting your head to see if that gauges a reaction. Sadly there was nothing but a huff and some finger taps on the couch’s cushions. Letting your arms fall to your side, you grunt and place the beer on the table. “Whatever, I’ll be right back.”

You grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and some extra sheets from your bedroom before making your way back into the living room to Sukuna. A fresh set of clothing was provided, thanks to Geto’s many late night bang sessions with Shoko, and some cooling pads were placed next to Sukuna on the couch. He didn’t do much but glance at the items, turning his face away in– what you assumed– was a quiet protest.

Sukuna never acted this petty and spoiled before. What’s gotten into him?

“Let’s get you changed, yeah?” Gently, you press your hands to his chest, earning a reaffirming nod and proceeding to undo the buttons of his collared shirt. 

It was strange to be in this position. On your knees, undressing the man you’ve pinned for for so long, only to be seeing this messy and unkempt side you didn’t like to imagine him being. The feelings in your chest that you wanted to put away were making your heart race once more, every glance you got to see from the mess you called Sukuna.

His hair made him resemble his brother more than anything else now, hanging over his sweaty forehead and tattoo. Arms hanging loosely at his sides, man spreading for all of the world to see. Shamefully, you enjoyed the calm attention. Even though it was unsightly, you liked getting to touch all over Sukuna’s body.

“There,” You mumble to yourself, having officially released Sukuna from his shirt. “N-Now, onto your..”

Trailing off, you look down at Sukuna’s pants. Swallowing thickly at the idea of pulling off his trousers, you took a deep breath. I’m never going to live this shame down!

Gently, you began to undo his belt. You face burning ever more as the air began to tense, wishing that anyone but you would be this bashful over something so silly. Still, regret hit you harder than the embarrassment or shame ever could.

Sukuna was watching you. Watching your hands slip the belt loose, pulling his button undone and pulling at his waistband. You tugged, unable to yank them down and free his lower half.

“Sukuna.. Can you lift your hips?” You ask in a soft voice, startled by the quick response. But what was it really, he was watching your every move. You felt like you were being examined in some office and not helping Sukuna undress. “Thank you.”

“Mm.”

Making haste of the situation, you pulled down the fabric of his trousers and grabbed the loose shorts you had found from earlier. Ignoring all thoughts of Sukuna and how perfect his legs looked, the thick black hands of his tattoos on the fat of his thigh. The way the bulge in his briefs was much a cause for distraction, even denying that it twitched once freed from it’s confines.

Yep, never happened.

“There, all better,” You sigh, satisfied. “Now that your ready for bed, I’m going to do the same.”

It took a few minutes, but you had completely reclothed Sukuna and he now looked more sleepy and ready for bed rather than drunk off his ass and about to black out on the couch. You had struggled to even get him to take a sip of water and sober up, but to no avail. You figured you’d have to try again tomorrow morning and explain the situation once he woke up in a confused fit.

Getting him comfortable on the couch too was another ordeal you didn’t think you’d go through, but you did. Tucking in the large male until he was all cozy and warm, safely resting his head on one of your spare pillows.

“I’ll see ya in the morning, Ryo,” You mumble, letting your mind wander for a moment and tracing the outline of one of his tattoos on his bicep. Feeling the muscle twitch under your touch momentarily.

“Mgh,” Sukuna muffled out, cheeks warm to the touch.

Letting out another sigh, you stand from your spot next to the couch. Only to be pulled back towards the culprit at hand, falling ass first next to his lap. Sukuna didn’t make a sound, just grasped onto your hips and pulled you in for a hug. His arms anchored around your lower stomach, pressing into the arch of your spine and forcing you to press against him as well.

His nose was pressed into the crook of your shoulder, but you continued to crusade for answers from the sudden affection. “AGH! Sukuna, that was highly uncalled for!! What the hell do you think you’re doing?! Answer me, dammit–!!”

“Who was that guy?”

You flinch, caught off guard. The clarity and conviction in Sukuna’s voice was strange, seeing as he had been stumbling and leaning into you for the last few moments. “Uhm, my Economics partner Nickolas. It shouldn’t matter, you need to sleep!”

“I don’t need sleep,” Sukuna grunts out, lifting himself off of the couch and trapping you underneath him. Using his big arms like a cage, eyes locking you in place with a vice on your heart. “What was he doin’ hanging here?”

“Sukuna, this is childish,” You start, ready to defend yourself for a confrontation. “He’s my class partner, you shouldn’t be upset over it.”

Wait.. why was he upset?

Previously, he had never seemed to give a flying fuck what you did or whom you did it with. What’s with the sudden change of heart? It made yours ache at the possibilities, wondering what could it be that made him so hostile all of the sudden over Nickolas.

“I barely know him anyways..”

“And you let him sit here on this couch?”

There was a small slap sound as skin met skin, Sukuna’s palm and fingers grasping your chin and cheeks. A gentle but firm squeeze sent shivers down your spine, your hand reaching up to try and pull Sukuna’s off but to no avail. His eyes scanned your face for anything, a sign.

Something. Anything that would make this ache in his chest stop.

“What is he to you, huh?” His voice came out rough, deep. Intimidating. 

It was scary, but a shudder was sent up your spine. A lustful and unneeded shudder, one that sent ideas to your brain. That made your mind wander, but you held them back. 

Even as Sukuna’s lips captured yours, as his teeth grazed and nibbled at your lower lip, your hands reached up to tangle themselves in his pink locks. You had to deny, because the Sukuna that was here wasn’t really him. It was a drunk and dissociated version of him, a side that you normally didn’t see. 

A side that he probably didn’t like showing.

“Did you let him do this, mh?” Sukuna muttered, pulling away from your mouth. A string of saliva connecting the both of you for a moment as your lungs fought for breath. Chest rising and falling heavily, your hands hold onto Sukuna’s arms, trying to find something to stabilize yourself in this mess of kisses.

“N-No, we just.. Talked about class–”

“Talked? About class? Me? You?”

Sukuna retreated his touch from your face and instead placed them on your thighs. Laying beside you on the couch, keeping you trapped against his chest and making sure to dress the blankets over you.

“Sukuna, seriously, this isn’t funny anymore,” You whimper, covering your face. How could you push this away? You’ve wanted nothing but to be closer to him, haven’t you?

Desired, pleaded. You wanted everything.. But this wasn’t the way.

Feeling Sukuna’s hands wrap around your waist, having his hot breath on your neck and shoulder as he rutted his hips against the fat of your ass. You felt utterly guilty, like trash. Wanting to crawl away from Sukuna and save him the little grace he had, to avoid giving him something to wake up and regret tomorrow.

“Y/n.. look at me.. Look at what you’ve done,” The man in question ordered, hooking your top leg over his elbow. Letting the bulge in his pants grow more and more, his voice becoming ragged and deep as he got harder and harder. “You’re making a mess of me, can’t you tell?”

You nod, wanting to pull away and sleep in your bed. But the desires in you only wanted you to fall deeper. The strings of your heart being plucked as Sukuna’s lips found the sensitive skin of your neck. Marking and sucking, lewd sucking sounds erupting from his lips as he made harsh hickeys form on the skin.

Mewl after moan escaped you, your pussy wet and slick under the confines of your panties and pajama bottoms. Sukuna could tell, releasing your leg from his hold and slowing his hips for a moment until his hand migrated to your front.

Grinding the flat surface of his palm against your clothed cunt, whispering naughty words into your ear that you had to drown out. Even if the wants in your belly wished for Sukuna to be there, to fill up your insides and make a mess. To be closer than he’s ever let you been for the last month or so, you had to stop this.

And you did, with much regret.

“Sukuna, stop,” You whimper, pulling Sukuna’s hand away from your body. Breaths coming out in baited huffs, you sat up. Not taking a moment to let yourself get lured back in, feeling Sukuna’s hand find your waist again as you resisted further.

“Stop what?” He mutters, annoyance in his voice. Laced with an emotion you wished to unhear. “Didn’t you want this too?”

“Not like this.” Cold, respectful. You had to be this way, to give Sukuna another chance. Letting him have his way now in such a drunken state, you wouldn’t be able to recover a good relationship. “If I was like anyone else, you’d be taken advantage of.”

Sukuna’s touch softened, his glazed eyes clearing for a moment as he looked at the back of your head. Seeing a shimmer of something on your cheek, his fingers trembled. He desired to reach up, to brush those tears away. It was against his very nature, his very being.

He didn’t like the idea of being all cuddly and cozy, being soft and vulnerable with someone. The idea of it made his stomach churn and made the urge to vomit impending. 

But, with you. Seeing those tears form, for his sake. He felt irritated with himself. He caused it. Him.

“I’m going to bed now,” You say, voice shaken up. “Get some water, sleep.”

You stood from your place on the sofa and walked over to the small hallway, entering your bedroom and letting out a shuddering exhale. A weight was now firmly sitting on your chest. It ached, it hurt, it burned.

Everything that pain felt like was exploding in your chest. Reaching up a hand to try and comfort yourself wasn’t worth the effort either as you slid down the wood of your bedroom door. Curling into a feeble position as the tears fell from your eyes, finally free after holding them the whole time.

What you wished you could do about the man on your couch.

. . .

a/n: y'all i literally have a crippling addiction to crime videos and all that shit it's just so interesting for no reason oml (crying inside) also sorry for the month long pause (i say sorry too much) i was creating new characters and working on ideas for the next few chapters!

Chapter Song Them: — Granite - Sleep Token (Lyrics)

taglist: @mageyboo, @mzladyd , @mysticwonderlandangel, @sukunaspersonalfleshlight, @kawaiipenguin20, @k-indie, @okkotsufav, @cafeinthemoon93, @pulchritxde, @bontenbunny, @deepinballs, @kleebloomed, @fiierytearzx, @wo-ming-bai, @instantgalaxysheep, @watyousayin, @z3r0art, @sukunaobsessed, @lik0, @sukunasfirstlove, @princesstiti14, @nemoyr, @ladywolf44005, @cat-mak20, @coffee-on-a-rainyautumn, @hxlalokidottir, @domainofmarie, @the-moongoddess, @dark-n-dirty-duchess, @agentdedf1sh, @sukunastoy, @lyn-soso, @bao-yu-sarah-morningstar-wang-9, @heyitstacy, @lost-in-tokyo, @marksassybanana, @bozos-r-us , @p-3-4-c-h, @chaoticqueen33, @dxxny-loves-u, @l0tus-in-l0ve , @jiordeci, @opossum0-0, @gumisgirl, @mommasbigd, @heyitstacy, @misslauravillanueva, @fallenlostarchives, @infinitivesearch

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[forever-rogue]

OMG TASM INSPO OKAY OKAY!

I saw this prompt a while ago that said: one small kiss before fully devouring the other person and I thought it would be perfect for pining idiots Peter and r. Maybe they dare them to kiss at a party or they get tipsy enough to be very affectionate which leads to the kiss. But then one of them is like shit I ruined our friendship and ghosts the other until they talk and get back together and kiss again 🥰

AN | If there is one thing I love it’s blind fools in love! Enjoy ❤️

Pairing | tasm!Peter Parker x fem!reader

Warnings | Language

Word Count | 4.5k

Masterlist | Main | Peter

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

He was so pretty like this.

Wild, unruly hair, plush lips, pink cheeks and eyes like rich honey. 

“What’re you lookin’ at, huh?” he reached over and brushed a lock of your behind your ear, so close that you could smell the sweet alcohol that lingered on his lips. Your heart skipped a few beats at the tender touch; it was nothing new but every one of his touches felt like the first time. He rested his palm against your cheek as you swallowed the lump in your throat, “you’re being weird.”

“Nuh uh,” you narrowed your eyes at him but your weak attempt at being serious did nothing for him. Instead he laughed, a sugary sweet sound you wanted to bottle up and keep as yours and yours only forever, “you’re being weird, Pete.”

“Whatever you say,” his long, lithe fingers ghosted along your jaw before he retracted his touch. You missed the warmth of his skin on yours almost immediately, “I think you’re drunk.”

“Shut up,” you groaned and finished the last bit of the hard cider in your bottle. You were so far from drunk, having nursed the same bottle over the last hour and a half just as he had with his beer. Neither of you were even tipsy, just enough to feel a slight buzz in your bones, let alone drunk, “‘m not. Just tired of you.”

“That’s a lie,” he whispered as you nodded meekly. You could never lie to him, or even fool him in the slightest. He’d been your best friend for almost a decade; he knew you better than anyone ever had.

“It’s a lie,” you confirmed, shifting your gaze away from him. You looked around the room, trying to focus on literally anyone else at the party. Unfortunately, no one else seemed to capture your attention - at least not as much as Peter Parker did. You could feel his gaze trained on you, and part of you was worried for a moment that he was almost able to hear every single thought you had running through your mind. You turned back and immediately felt your warm up, “Pete?”

“I want to kiss you,” he whispered, voice so soft that your ears were playing tricks on you. When you saw the quiet and determined expression on his face you could tell that you had actually heard what you thought you’d heard.

“What?” you’d leaned in closer, inadvertently, but found yourself inches away from the pretty boy. The corner of his mouth tipped up in a very Peter-esque smile - that your smile. You wanted to bottle it up and keep it safe in your heart forever. You huffed when he just stared at you like you were magic, “Peter. What did you say?”

“C’mon Bee,” you could hear the subtle groan in his voice, “you heard me. I want to kiss you.”

“Why?” your brows knitted together in confusion; you were so ridiculously cute especially with the way your nose scrunched, “me? Pete, you’re just drunk.”

“Yeah you,” an incredulous huff escaped his lips. How? How did you not know that he was in love with you? Especially since he’d fallen for you days into your friendship so many years ago, “I like you, you know. And I’m not drunk. Not in the slightest.”

“Of course you do,” he was drunk. He had to be despite his insistence that he wasn’t. Right? You swallowed thickly, “you’re my best friend.”

“No, you don’t…” he put a hand on your neck, his thumb brushing along the soft skin under your ear, “I’m going to kiss you, okay?”

“Okay,” your voice was so small it was basically a squeak, but it was enough to set him at ease to actually do what he’d been dreaming of for so long.

Peter closed the small gap between the two of you, pressing his lips to yours - softly at first, questioning and learning. When you didn’t panic or pull away. He deepened the kiss, earning a small moan from you. That sound made electricity shoot throughout his entire body; he wanted more, he wanted it all. All your sounds just for him. 

Before you let it get too far, you pulled back, wrapping your fingers around his wrist and taking his hand away. Peter stopped immediately and looked at your in surprise and… hurt? on his face. You held up your hands, both of them shaking, your mouth opening and closing a few times as you searched for the right words.

“Bee?”

“I-I can’t do this,” you scooted your chair back and stood up, shaking your head, “this was a mistake. I’m sorry, Peter. I gotta go.”

You grabbed your bag and started to push your way through the throng of crowds to leave. Peter had jumped up to his feet and attempted to follow you, “wait - Bee!”

But you didn’t wait. By the time he got to the door, you were already long gone. He sighed heavily, banging his head against the wall as he tried to figure out what he did wrong. But, he figured, he’d give you space tonight and then check on you tomorrow. Surely this was all just…a misunderstanding. 

Surely you felt the same things he did. He’d been wishing for nothing else for so long.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Peter’s hopes that he would be able to talk to you and get to the bottom of what was going on were quickly dashed the next. 

He didn’t hear a peep from you - but it wasn’t for the lack of trying. He texted and called and even showed up at your apartment to no avail. In reality you’d received and read every text, sent every call to voicemail, and ignored his knocking. You just couldn’t face Peter, not today…make not ever. 

You were still trying to put all the pieces of what had happened together. He’d told you that he liked you and that he wanted to kiss you. 

And then he did exactly that. 

But it didn’t make sense. Peter Parker was your best friend, and best friends definitely didn’t kiss like that. He said he wasn’t drunk but there couldn't be any other reason, right? Why else would he suddenly want to kiss you? Part of you was afraid that you’d taken advantage of Peter to get what you wanted. Of course you wanted to kiss him; you’d been in love with him for years. Instead of risking anything, you’d kept yourself thoroughly in the best friend zone. You’d rather pine for him and suppress those feelings and keep him in your life, than potentially risk losing him completely. 

Life without Peter Park wasn’t anything you wanted to experience. 

And in a few moments of inhibition, you might have ruined everything after all. You couldn’t face him ever again. The thought of that alone was enough to make you want to curl up and cry. 

You were being dramatic…you knew you were. You needed something - someone - logical to keep you from spiraling. Grabbing your phone, you quickly found her contact and called her, pacing around as you waited for her to answer.

“MJ,” you let out a sigh of relief when she picked up after a few rings, “I did something bad. Can you come over?”

You heard her sweet laugh on the other side, “of course. I’ll be there in twenty? Shall I bring a bottle of wine?”

“Yes please,” you rubbed at your forehead, “two bottles if you have it.”

“On my way!”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Little did you know, MJ was already way ahead of you. She was already well aware of what had happened; Peter had called her, close to tears, about an hour beforehand. He was quick to spill his guts out to her, trying to make sense of everything…and definitely panicking that he’d never see you again.

MJ, meanwhile, was terribly amused at the panic both of you were displaying. She was well aware that the two of you were in love with each other, even if you the two of you weren’t aware. To be fair…everyone was aware but the two of you. It was so obvious to anyone that spent even a moment around you that you were in love. Somehow that just didn’t get through to you - not yet but Mary Jane Watson was determined to finally get you both to realization and clarity. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Hi honey,” MJ let herself into your apartment with the key you’d given her long ago. You raised your hand and gave her a small wave from where you were curled up on the couch, buried under a heap of blankets. She set the bottles of wine down on the coffee table before raising an eyebrow at you, “and just what do we call this?”

“It’s calling wallowing,” you huffed, sitting up and looking at her with an upset expression on your face, “I fucked up.”

“I’m sure you didn’t,” she insisted softly before going into the kitchen and grabbing a couple of wine glasses and a bottle opener. You made room for her on the couch, and sat down next to you, carefully opening a bottle and pouring a couple of glasses. You picked yours up and clinked it against hers, “cheers. Now tell me what’s wrong.”

“Peter,” you took a huge drink before allowing yourself to look at the giant grin on MJ’s face, “it’s Peter.”

“And…what about Peter?” she was prying, gently doing so, but curious to know. If there was someone that knew Peter almost as well as you it was her. She’d dated him for a few years in high school after all, “what did he do? And/or what did you do?”

You sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly just as you’d learned in yoga class. You pinched the bridge of your nose before setting your glass down and angling your body closer to her, “hekissedme.”

“Pardon?” oh, she’d heard you loud and clear and you both knew it.

“Peter kissed me,” you said more slowly, letting the words wash over you as the memories of last night popped, “and I…kissed him back.”

MJ was practically giddy with excitement, barely holding back her smile. She was definitely the president, vice-president, secretary, and treasurer of the ‘you and Peter fanclub.’ She took another sip of her drink before setting the glass down and reached for one of your hands, “and what’s the problem with that? The two of you are clearly in love! It’s about time one of you made a move!”

“What?” you tilted your head to the side and looked at her in confusion, “what do you mean?”

“Oh my god,” she threw her head back with a loud groan, “how are you so smart and dumb at the same time?!”

“MJ-”

“I know how you feel about Peter,” you’d confessed your love and adoration for your best friend many times - tipsy, drunk, and sober. And it wasn’t like either of you did anything to hide it. You huffed and looked at her like a lost little puppy, “and I know how he feels about you. I’m not sure what the problem is…”

“Peter doesn’t….he was drunk.”

“Peter doesn’t get drunk,” she raised her eyebrows in a sort of tell me I’m wrong expression, “but what exactly led to him finally making a move?”

“We were at that party at Beth’s and we were just hanging out and talking. I’d had a few drinks and he did too,” ugh. The way he’d looked at you was like something else, “and later on he told me he wanted to kiss me. I asked him why and he just sort of…made it seem like it was obvious. I asked if he was drunk but he said no and I don’t…fuck, I don’t know.”

“It is obvious, all things aside,” she waved her hand, “but if he says he wasn’t drunk, what’s wrong? Was it bad?”

“No. No,” it was anything but bad. In fact, you were ready to admit that it was easily the best kiss of your life. That made you both nervous and excited, “it was good.”

“But you didn’t want it?”

“I did, I do,” you drained the rest of your glass before pulling your legs up and hugging your knees to your chest, “I liked it and I want to do it again. You know I do. It’s just…what if he thinks its a mistake? What if he hated it and it’s ruined everything. I don’t want to lose him, MJ. He’s too important to me.”

“Honey,” she mirrored your position and her face turned serious, “I mean in the most loving way possible, but you are so incredibly obtuse. Peter is in love with you. You’re in love with Peter. What else could you possibly need to know?”

“I know I love him,” you agreed, “so much. But how can you be so sure?”

“Because he’s told me!” she threw up her hands as your eyes widened in surprise. She put her hands on yours and gave you a little shake, “he’s told me that he’s in love with you. More than once. I’ve just been…the two of you are so damn stupid. You’re so clearly in love with each other but neither of you can just admit and move forward. You’re not going to lose Peter, I swear on that. But sometimes you just have to take a leap of faith and move forward. Otherwise nothing is ever to change.”

“MJ-”

“It’s not even that big of a leap,” she whispered gently, “it’s Peter. He’s always going to be there to catch you.”

You swallowed thickly, blinking back the tears stinging at the back of your eyes, “I’m scared, MJ.”

“I know,” she gently brushed her knuckles against your cheek, “and it’s okay to be scared. But this is a sure thing. But, for now, let’s have some more wine and watch a bad movie and order pizza?”

“That sounds perfect,” you agreed sniffling slightly, “thanks MJ.”

You hoped she was right. You hoped that this leap of faith would be worth it.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

As it turned, your great leap of faith…was a little delayed. As in one thing led to another and your nerves and anxiety got the better of you and you hadn't seen or talked to Peter in two weeks.

It was the longest you'd gone in the decade you'd known him without talking or seeing each other. It sucked. You knew Peter was a huge part of your life but you hadn't realized just how much…until he was gone. 

And it was definitely your own fault. Peter kept trying and trying to get through to you. That part warmed your heart and made things worse at the same time. You almost wished he could let it go but you knew that wasn't his style at all. His persistence and big heart were some of the many things you loved about him. You were going to talk to him at some point…you just needed to work up the courage. Soon hopefully. Soon.

Soon, as it turned out, came on a chilly fall day as you saw at your favorite cafe. You were halfheartedly sipping on a coffee as you worked on your laptop. You had hoped that getting out of the house and the office to work in a different space, one you normally loved, would help to cheer you up but it didn’t work. Not that you had anyone to blame but yourself. 

With an unwittingly heavy sigh, you looked up and stared out the window, watching the rain drizzle down. The city was beautiful this time of year; only this time it didn’t feel as lovely. 

What you didn’t expect, however, was to find Peter Parker stopping mid-walk and looking straight back at you. A tentative little smiled up the corners of his mouth as held up his hand in a small wave; a white flag gesture. You let out a nervous huff of laughter before smiling back at him and holding up your hand in response. 

He stood there for a moment before mouthing something at you, motioning with his to see if you’d come out. This time you didn’t hesitate as you shoved your laptop into your bag and almost ran outside to meet him. You didn’t know where you stood with Peter, but even just seeing him already made your heart feel so much better. 

“Hi,” he sounded almost nervous as you stopped in front of him, neither of you caring that you were getting wet. 

“Hi,” you whispered back, unsure of what to say or do. But this time you couldn’t run away or hide; you had to face up to what was going on, “can we talk?”

“Yeah,” he took your bag from you and hooked it over his shoulder, starting to walk in the direction of his apartment. You fell into step with him, neither of you saying anything, but walking close enough so that the backs of your hands continued to gently brush against each other. The tension hanging in the air between the two of you was palpable but you were afraid to say anything to break the silence. 

Peter didn’t seem to harbor any ill feelings as he continued to open the doors for you. By the time you were inside the apartment, he closed the door and leaned against, watching you closely. You stood there nervously, trying to think of what to say, all the while hoping that Peter would say something instead. 

The two of you looked at each other in silence for what seemed like a small eternity. The next thing you knew, Peter came over to you and took your face gently in his hands, warm doe eyes searching yours. You offered him the tiniest of nods before he leaned in and kissed you. This time, instead of over thinking anything, you allowed yourself to live in the moment. At first Peter was afraid that you didn’t want this and he’d somehow read the signs wrong, but then he felt you loop your arms around his waist and kiss him back. 

And it felt like pure magic. It was everything you could have ever dreamed of and then some more. Kissing Peter felt so…right. Judging by the way he refused to pull away from you until you were both breathless, you were sure that he felt the same. He pressed his forehead against yours and let a small, wistful sigh. 

“I’m sorry,” you whispered softly, unable to get your emotions in check from what had just happened. The only thing you knew was that you loved Peter; that was all that mattered, “Pete.”

“Don’t apologize,” he traced his fingers along your jaw and down your neck, causing goosebumps to explode all over your skin, “just talk to me please.”

You nodded, allowing yourself to look into his eyes. There was no malice in them, only…well, you weren’t absolutely sure what it was, but it was…something. There was a hopeful expression on his eyes as you nervously played with your hands. 

“Pete,” he loved the way you said his name; it always made him weak in the knees, “when you kissed me last time, were you drunk? Tipsy? Anything?”

He made a small sound, but shook his head, giving you the answer that you had already known was true, “no.”

“Why did…want to kiss me?” you were adorably; adorably blind. Peter looked at you softly, tilting his head to the side as he tutted. 

“You really don’t get it, do you?” he asked as you bit your lip. He moved towards his bedroom and motioned for you to follow him. When he stepped inside, he went to his dresser and dug around for a few moments before pulling out a big cardboard box. You watched with rapt attention as he took off the lid and poured the contents out on the bed. It was a large pile of photo strips, receipts, notes, and other silly little trinkets, “I have kept every silly note, every set of photobooth pictures, every receipt from anything important or special that we’ve done in the last decade.”

“Oh,” your eyes started to sting with tears as you looked at everything. You reached for a strip of photos - the first ones you’d taken together - and looked them over. It was the two of you, about nine years younger, making silly poses. Except in the last photo; you were making a silly face but Peter wasn’t. He was looking right at you with that same expression he’d always had just for you. Just for you. You looked at him and found him watching you intently, his cheeks tinged with a pretty shade of pink. It was like everything suddenly clicked in your mind, “oh. Peter…”

“It’s been a long time Bee,” his voice was so soft and low, “all this time, I’ve been waiting for you to catch up.”

“You never…” you sifted through the other photos and gathered them all up, looking through them. Fuck, you were an idiot. Every single time there was that look, “you never said anything.”

“No,” he admitted, “I was sure you’d get there eventually, and I’d always be here.”

“But at the party,” you felt even more stupid now; he had basically when telling the same thing then but you just didn’t want to believe that it could be true, “you said something.”

“I couldn’t keep my eyes off you. You’re so beautiful,” he watched the smile on your face grow as you looked at some of the silly post-it notes the two of you had exchanged when you still worked at the same lab, “I never can. I couldn’t help myself.”

“Wait,” you sat at the edge of the bed, clutching one of the notes tightly in your hand, “can you just…spell it out for me? I-I don’t know if my brain is working properly right now.”

“Bee,” he crouched down in front of you, large hands settling on your thighs, “I love you. Not just as a best friend, but as everything. I want everything, but only if it’s with you.”

You put one of your hands on his and gave it a gentle squeeze, “yeah?”

“Yeah,” he turned your hand over and traced a finger along the heart and life lines on your palm, “I’m in love with you.”

“Peter.”

“I was wondering when you were going to catch up,” he brought your hand to his lips and pressed a tender kiss to your palm, “MJ’s been trying to get me to tell you for a long time.”

“This whole time?” he nodded as you looked at him with a most ardent and loving expression, “when did you know?”

“It was at that first fair we went that summer after we met,” you remembered that day so clearly. From the sounds and the smells to what the two of you were wearing, to all the whispered conversations and longing looks, “you were wearing that pretty sundress - the yellow one with the little daisies on it - and I almost lost it. I think I knew that night. I really wanted to kiss you then.”

“I wanted you to kiss me then too,” you admitted sheepishly, feeling your entire face warm up, “it was that New Years Eve for me. You took me ice skating and I really wanted to hold your hand so I pretended to be super bad at skating. When it was midnight and kissed my cheek, I knew it was always going to be you for me.”

“I knew you were faking,” he laughed softly, eyes sparkling with happiness, “but I really liked holding your hand and didn’t want to let go. I’ve taken every and any excuse over the years to hold your hand or touch you.”

“I’m…I’m scared, Peter,” you couldn’t imagine a life without him. He was the biggest part of your heart, “what if something happens and we can’t be friends anymore? I don’t want to lose you. Ever.”

“I promise you that you are never going to lose me,” you hoped it was true; you desperately wanted it to be true, “not as Spider-Man and not as plain old Peter. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Pinky promise?” you held up your other hand and extended your pinky towards his. He hooked his finger around yours without hesitation.

“Pinky promise,” he repeated, “and you know the pink promise is law. No one can break them. It’s for life.”

“What if you start to hate me?” that would be your worst fear, “if we start dating or something.”

“I hate to break it to you, honey,” he plopped onto the floor and gently pulled and maneuvered you into his lap. Yeah…that might have become your new favorite spot, “we’ve basically already been dating. It’s really not going to change much. Just some…added benefits.”

And at that, you relaxed, allowing yourself to melt into his body, laughing softly as you rested your forehead on his shoulder, “I guess you’re right. But, Pete-”

“I’m sure,” he put his hand under your chin and turned your face up to his, “I always have been sure. It’s always going to be you.”

“Me too,” you took advantage of the moment and leaned up to steal a quick kiss from him, “I am sorry though, for ignoring you for the past couple of weeks. I was scared and then I didn’t know how to approach you after that.”

“I knew you were doing okay…ish,” he immediately knew what he was going to say next, “MJ kept me updated.”

“She’s going to kill me,” you sighed, “she’s been so mad at me for how I’ve been acting - not that I blame her. She told me to tell you how I felt. She told me it was just a small leap of faith.”

“I’m right here to catch you,” of course he was. He had been since the day he’d met you, “how do you feel, Bee? Tell me.”

“I’m in love with you, Peter Parker,” the smile on his face was beaming. It was enough to warm your heart a million times over, “I want you.”

“You have me.”

“I know,” you took his hand in yours and laced your fingers together. You’d held hands before but it felt so different this time around, “you have me too, you know.”

“I know,” he mirrored the actions with your other hands, “I’ve always known.”

“Hmm,” you closed your eyes and hummed in content, “will you kiss me again?”

“Gladly, Bee,” he brushed his nose against yours, “always.”

MJ was going to flip when she heard the news.

[hellodarling1357]

Drunk Words, Sober Thoughts? (Cassian x Reader) - Part 3

Hello hello!!! Part 3 is finalllyyyyy here, I’m so sorry for the wait. It’s a bit of a filler chapter but the next part should (hopefully) be up soon.

Here’s a link to part 1 and part 2 ✨

Enjoy and let me know what you think 🥰

Word Count: 2.3k

Your feet stumbled as you came to an abrupt halt, unable to tear your eyes away from the pair walking along the other side of the river.

The male you had let yourself believe you had a chance with, and the female, Evalina, who was clearly his perfect match.

Cassian and Evalina had been together almost two decades ago before their relationship was ripped to shreds by such a monumental fight that no one had dared asked Cassian what had caused it.

Although you had been concerned for Cassian during the fallout, you couldn’t help the guilt-ridden joy that coursed through you at the thought of Evalina no longer being around.

It seems, however, you were wrong.

Embarrassment washed over you as you realised this is what Cassian would’ve wanted to talk to you about this morning; he was drunk and didn’t know what he was saying and, oh, by the way, Evalina is back in the picture.

“Y/N?”

Mor pulled you from your thoughts, her eyes tracking over to see what had you stopping, causing her to let out a sigh as she wrapped an arm around your shoulder and forced you to keep moving.

“Come on. Let’s skip dinner and get you nice and drunk.”

You wouldn’t argue with that.

*****

“Hello ladies, welcome, welcome,” A handsome fae male greeted as you stepped inside the cozy wine bar. “How can I help you today? Table for two?”

You let Mor answer and guide you to your seat, too caught up in self pity to say anything to the male.

“Now,” He said with a clap of his hands and a dazzling smile. “My name is Bryn, owner of this establishment and your server for today. We are fairly new here and are missing a few shipments so our drinks list is somewhat limited, but I’ll do my best. What were you both after?”

Mor shot you a glance but you were preoccupied with looking out the window, torturing yourself by trying to catch a glance of where Cassian and Evalina might have gone.

“Just a bottle of wine please,” Another glance in your direction had Mor adding, “And two shots of vodka”

With a chuckle, Bryn took your menus and promised to be right back with your drinks.

“So,” You glanced back at Mor as she spoke, knowing your face was the picture of misery but unable to bring yourself to care. “Are you finally going to admit to me that you’re head over heels in love with Cassian, or do I have to keep pretending not to notice?”

You let out a groan and placed your head on the table.

A soft “ahem” caused you to jump up, cheeks flushing, as you realised Bryn had just arrived with two shot glasses.

You gave him a sheepish look and muttered a quick “thanks”, kicking Mor under the table as she laughed at you and your clearly broken heart.

Downing the shot, you glared back at Mor before reaching across the table and downing her shot as well.

“Hey!” Mor grumbled as you slammed the glass down.

Before you could respond, Bryn appeared again, bottle of clear liquid in hand.

“Looks like you might need this,” he said as he filled up both glasses again. “It’s on the house.”

Mor quickly grabbed her glass back before you could finish both of them off again.

With a sigh you pushed your now-empty shot glass towards the middle of the table.

“Is it really that obvious?”

“Yes.”

“Does Cassian know?” If he knew it would make the whole mess of a situation so much worse.

“I don’t know, Y/N. But I’m not sure if—“

You were hardly listening to what she was saying as you replayed the past 24 hours and the emotional roller coaster you had endured.

“I feel so stupid,” Mor stared back at you in silence, giving you a small smile that encouraged you to continue. “Last night, once we got back, we were just arguing back and forth, just about dumb things, and then he said…he was drunk, really drunk, but he said he loved me.”

Two wine glasses were placed in front of you and you graciously took a sip, unable to bring yourself to meet Mor’s eye.

“He said he loved me, and…I don’t know, I passed it off as him being drunk and just being him. But then, before he went to bed, he said it again, and the way he looked at me…,” You let out a heavy sigh before taking another sip of wine. “I just feel so stupid for letting myself think, hope, that it was real and that he actually meant it. But then this morning he wanted to talk, and now that Evalina is back in the picture…” You trailed off, still trying to piece your thoughts together.

Mor was silent for a moment as she turned over all you had said. It didn’t make any sense. She had seen you and Cassian together, the way you looked at one another, the joking and back-and-forth banter, the way both of your feelings were obvious to everyone except yourselves. But maybe she had been wrong…

“It might not be what you think it is,” Mor finally said. “Maybe just give yourself a couple of days, get some distance from him so you can sort out your own thoughts. Then we’ll work it out.”

Giving her a small smile, you nodded in response before changing the topic.

“Enough about me,” A sly smile spread across your face. “Will your friend from last night be joining us at Starfall this year?”

*****

You didn’t need to try too hard at avoiding Cassian over the next few days. Despite the upcoming celebrations, your workload remained never ending, allowing you only fleeting greetings as you crossed paths with one another.

As luck would have it, the week before Starfall, Rhys sent Cassian to Illyria to look into some rumoured wing clippings that had started springing up across some of the smaller camps. Although you missed him and worried about your friend whilst he was away, you found a sense of relief filling you as you were no longer having to hide away to avoid him.

You knew you would have to talk it out eventually, but for now you let yourself ignore the emotional turmoil and instead focused on the upcoming Starfall celebrations.

*****

You were just adding the finishing touches to your makeup when there was a knock on your door, followed by Mor letting herself in, not waiting for you to answer.

“Hello to you too.” You smiled at your friend in the mirror as you swiped some blush over your other cheek.

“Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” She greeted as she passed you a generously filled glass of wine before setting herself down in one of the armchairs.

“Says you, you look absolutely stunning.” Mor just brushed off your compliment with a wave of her hand.

“Well go on, let’s see the dress. Everyone will be arriving soon.”

Taking a sip of wine, you walked over to your changing room, haphazardly throwing your silk robe onto the floor as you donned your Starfall dress.

Despite yourself, and the whirlwind the past two weeks had been, you couldn’t help but look forward to tonight. The distance from Cassian had helped you sort through your racing thoughts and allowed you to compose yourself enough to act as though nothing had changed.

Cassian had been delayed at one of the war camps and, according to Mor, had only returned to Velaris a few hours ago. Having been locked away with Rhys upon his return to go over his reports, and then with you spending the better part of the day bathing and getting yourself ready, you were yet to actually see him.

With a sigh you brushed out the skirt of your dress before grabbing your shoes and heading back out to the main part of your bedroom where Mor was waiting.

“I told you it was the perfect dress.” Mor squealed excitedly at the sight of you.

Grinning back at her, you quickly slid into your shoes before doing a final check over. You could feel your nerves start to flutter at the thought of seeing Cassian again, most likely with Evalina by his side if the other night was anything to go off.

With a final deep breath, you picked up your wine glass and turned to Mor.

“Ready?”

“Ready.”

*****

The echo of music and excited chatter flowed down the hallway as the two of you headed towards the crowd. A quick glance around the room told you Cassian was yet to join and you felt your tension somewhat ebbing away as you and Mor headed over to where Rhys, Azriel, and Amren stood.

You lost yourself in the music and just being able to enjoy the night with your friends, your worries from earlier were long gone, the multiple drinks you had consumed definitely playing a helpful factor.

Noticing everyone’s glasses were getting low, you excused yourself and headed towards the bar to get the next round.

Patiently waiting for a tray of five glasses, you leant against the wall and watched the party before you in a contented silence. You would be lying to yourself if you didn’t admit you were also keeping an eye out for a certain red-siphoned Illyrian who you had yet to spot.

“Well you’re definitely looking better compared to the last time I saw you.”

You startled at the fae male who suddenly appeared by your side.

“Hi…” You trailed off, giving him an apologetic smile. He definitely looked familiar but you couldn’t place where you had met.

“Bryn.” He laughed. “You and your friend visited my bar the other week. Though I don’t blame you for not remembering me, seemed like you had quite a bit on your mind.” He finished with a wink at your clearly embarrassed expression as you thought back to your sorry state that night.

“Bryn, of course. How are you? How’s business?”

Shooting you another grin, he excitedly said, “Oh, it’s really great. Been pretty busy so that’s keeping me busy, but I do love it. We have a similar establishment in the Dawn Court but my partner is originally from here so we decided it was time to move back. Actually…would you excuse me? I believe one of the guests over there dabbles in the selling of fine wines…”

You blinked in response to his faced paced chatter and his sudden retreating figure, shaking your head a bit with a chuckle at what felt like the conversation equivalent of whiplash.

“Miss…” A voice called out, “Your drinks.”

Turning back to the bar, you hurried over for the tray, offering a gracious smile before heading into the throng of people to where your friends stood.

“Well you took your time, did someone catch your eye?” You rolled your eyes at Mor’s teasing as the others chuckled and thanked you for the drinks.

“Actually,” you started, giving Mor a dismissive look when she excitedly perked up. “Bryn, the owner of that new bar we went to the other week, is here, he was just telling me how it was all going. Here, someone hold this, I’m just going to take the tray back.”

You handed your glass off to Azriel before weaving your way back towards the bar. You waved at Bryn as you passed, who was now animatedly talking to who you assumed was the wine seller.

Movement behind you and the sudden call of your name had you looking around, your heart dropping as you were suddenly stood in front of Cassian and Evalina.

You gaped for a moment before quickly collecting yourself and plastering on a smile.

“Hi,” You greeted, hoping your voice didn’t sound as shaky as you felt. “You’re back.”

Cassian gave you a soft smile, opening his mouth to say something but Evalina cut in.

“Y/N, it’s so good to see you. Cauldron, it’s been too long, hasn’t it?” You stiffened as she locked her arm around Cassian’s, a smirk gracing her features. “Can you believe that I’ve finally found my mate?”

And there it was.

You felt the blood rush to your head, the surrounding sounds of the party becoming a distant murmur as your body tensed and eyes went wide.

Her mate. Cassian was her mate, and she was his, and…

“Y/N? Are you alright?” Cassian’s concerned voice had everything rushing back into focus.

You blinked up at him, cursing yourself for the burning sensation as tears welled in your eyes.

You didn’t know what to say, you should be happy for him, for them. But you couldn’t muster the energy to pretend anymore, not as you felt your heart break into a million little pieces.

Ignoring Cassian’s question and the bewilderment on Evalina’s face, you turned on the spot and walked away.

*****

Sorry… 👀

[hamburgerhelpersotherhand]

Infatuation Rewritten - Chapter 1

Joe Goldberg x Reader (ft. Love Quinn)

Previous | Masterlist | Next

Summary: Love's longtime friend moves back to LA. Fortunately, Joe (Will) never had too much trouble adapting (Season 2).

Warnings: Alcohol consumption (we're all adults here), Joe actually loses his mind a little at the end.

Now for something nobody expected! The long-awaited rewrite for Infatuation... I have 40 pages of this, by the way. I'd like for *some* of them to see the light of day... and so I've told myself: If I wait for it to be perfect, It'll never be posted. I hope you all enjoy, and feel free to share your thoughts! xoxo Ona

My eyes roamed the list of names by the front door of the apartment complex. There were about four total, so finding yours was the easiest part. The hardest step came in the form of mustering up the courage to press the buzzer. But, was it really a trouble with courage? The more I thought, as my finger hovered over the button, the more I began to consider it to be uncertainty.

I pause and reach my other hand into my pocket. My fingers slide across the screen of your phone, and I remind myself why I'm here. Simply put, I’m here to give you your phone back. I found it on the passenger’s seat of my car and almost thought to tell Love… Instantly, a part of me knew she would’ve pried it from my grip to give to you herself – and I couldn’t pass up the opportunity for us to speak again, this time unmonitored by her perceptive gaze and sharp ears… and without the alcohol in your system.

Last night, you clung to Love as she touched you tenderly, playing the role of your dutiful sober saviour. She hosted a dinner and she invited her friends. One of them was you.

“A good friend,” She had called you. The last she’d spoken to you was ten years ago, and I guess I hadn’t realized good friends stay out of reach for a decade at a time. It didn’t matter how much time had split you two apart, though, because Love embraced you with a warm smile and open arms. There wasn’t any malice, no judgement either. She was just happy to have you back in her life. When you got too drunk to take public transportation, Love tried to coax you into staying the night. You wouldn’t budge, even with a slipping tongue, fluttering eyes, and a head too heavy to stay upright. So she compromised: you let her coddle you, sober you up just enough, and I drove you home. It wasn’t even that late, Love just couldn't stop pouring you wine after wine after wine. You seemed like you needed it, though. Tense as you were. Pent up little thing.

“What’s your relationship like with Love?” I asked, feeling rather bold with your inebriated self. The image of her hand resting on your thigh flashed in my mind. I laughed. “She hadn’t mentioned you until you’d moved back to LA. She practically can't shut up about you now.”

You shifted in your seat like a child. No position in my car seemed comfortable for you, and you had made it more than obvious.

“She’s a good friend.” You responded and looked out the window like it meant something. Love had said the same thing — I believed you both — but I felt as though you were withholding something else from the conversation. The annoying bell on your purse jingles as you tuck it closer to your side.

“You two seem close. Should I be concerned?” I then asked teasingly, laughing to fill the awkward tension of a silent car ride. I wanted to spark something in you, but you brushed it off as you curled your arms around your waist.

“I think I had too much to drink…” I glanced at you, and I was suddenly nervous. Your coat was askew, hanging off your shoulders. I knew you were drunk, but your direct announcement sounded to me as a warning.

“Tell me if you need to throw up, okay?” You slowly nodded before slotting your forehead against the cool car window. We remained like that until you got home, choosing to stumble your way for a block to feel a semblance of privacy – but I watched you walk up those steps. I knew your building, and you were still too fucked up to realize.

I pull your phone out of my pocket and look it over one more time. My thumb runs over the plastic case before turning it around and looking at myself in the black reflection.

Your phone is dead. Has been since I found it. None of my chargers fit into the port, unsurprisingly. It’s one of those phones where the keyboard slides out, for Pete's sake. Your phone is more than a few generations old. A brick. I chewed my fingers raw trying anything I could to get it started again – I wanted to pry, really. I’ll be honest with you here, I really wanted this glimpse into your personal affairs.

I wondered, exasperatedly, about what you were hiding behind this screen. Clutching it tighter into my palm, I lift my free hand and press the buzzer.

A few long moments after the sound, I hear a click.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Y/N. It’s Will –” I begin to say, ready to explain myself in the same manner I had rehearsed at home, eating breakfast, in the car, and on my way up the steps. However, you cut me off immediately.

“Do you have my phone?”

My heart skips a beat and I’m momentarily stunned. I blink a few times before speaking.

“Yeah, actually.” I replied. “I found it on the passenger seat this morning, I guess I didn't see it when I got home last night.”

“I’m going to buzz you in.” Perfect.

After hearing the buzzer, the door clicked. I made my way inside. The stairs were wooden and creaky, the walls showing obvious water damage, and the lights hummed obnoxiously. Obviously, none of this was of your doing. Your landlord just didn’t care.

Your door’s paint was chipping off, revealing the cracked wooden layer underneath, but the rusted numbers on your door somehow looked worse. I knocked.

I heard the shuffling of your feet from behind the door before it opened. When your head peeked out, you gave me a smile and extended your hand.

I momentarily look at it, thinking… Right. I drop your phone into your awaiting palm. I almost thought you wanted me to reach out as well. That would’ve been too good, right?

“May I use your bathroom?” I ask.

Your mouth opens momentarily, as you look away and off to the side. There’s nothing there, you’re simply thinking it through and disappearing into your head again.

“Sure.” You then reply, reluctantly scooting back and giving me my first glimpse into your apartment.

If only you knew how ecstatic I was to slip through the crack of your front door. My heart thumps excitedly, as I waste no time looking around. By the door sits a coat hanger with a few pairs of shoes around its feet.

“Should I take off my boots?” I ask.

“Yeah, actually. I’d appreciate it.”

I untie the laces and slip them off my feet. Then, just as I drop them by the coat hanger, you beckon me to follow.

Your apartment is a fair size, with one large space making up both the kitchen and the living room. Right of the front door, a short hallway leads us to a room. As you continue past the door, I slow myself and look to my left. Your hallway has a little louvred closet, and I can’t help but reach out and open it. There’s nothing exciting inside, only white bed sheets.

“The bathroom is over here.” I suddenly hear you say from within the bedroom. I close the closet and hurry along, hesitantly making my way into your room.

I examine the layout of your furniture: your bed is made, your dresser tucked away in the corner, your desk by the window, and your small bookcase right by its side. I take another look toward your window: It overlooks the front of the building, I think. I want to look around more, but I’ve already entered an uncomfortable silence through this simple observation… you’re bound to find it weird. Hell, you’re already finding it weird – my being here – if your reluctance to me using your bathroom is anything to go by.

“Thanks.” I tell you, nodding in your direction and scooting by to enter the bathroom. I peer over my shoulder, however, and take another peek into your bedroom before shutting the door.

In the bathroom, I made my way to the toilet and listened to your shuffling from the other side of the door. I lifted the seat without paying much attention, and stilled when I heard you leave the bedroom entirely. I didn’t really need to go to the bathroom, but I wasn’t lying when I said I needed to use it.

I waited a moment, lowered the toilet seat again, and didn’t bother flushing or washing my hands. The sound could set you off that I was finished, and I definitely wasn’t finished. I needed the opportunity to snoop just a tad bit more. I unlocked and creaked the bathroom door open, observing the quiet room with more attention than I had before.

Stepping out of the bathroom, I leave the door open. My head snaps in the direction of your bedroom door and I pleasantly find it shut from the rest of your apartment. You’re making this too easy. I make my way around quietly, being careful with my steps as I approach your nightstand with a familiar object glinting in the natural sunlight of the room: your phone, on its charger. When I press the button on its side, the logo appears as it powers on.

I take the time needed for the phone to boot up as an excuse to look about your room. The bookcase, which I had only glanced at before, takes shape infront of me. My hand drifts along the spines of the books… and I feel unsatisfied. You have a small selection of kitschy modern romance novels. My judging eyes shift to your dresser, the framed pictures sitting on top catching my attention. I don't recognize anyone, but a weird feeling washes over me. You’re not in any of these pictures. I feel a… disconnection… from the room. My eyes move elsewhere and I catch sight of a few unopened cardboard boxes against the wall near the bedroom door. They’re folded. Unused. I wonder briefly as I look back down to your phone. It’s open.

Unlocking it was easy, no password. You know, the good thing about an older cellphone model is how easy it is to just… get in. I flip your phone over and pop the back right off. I slide the chip out of my pocket and right into place. Once everything is back in its place, I unlock your phone and fully install the hardware. As much as I would like to start snooping about your phone now, I close it and set it back down on your nightstand. I make my way back into the bathroom, pulling my phone out all the while. I open the freshly installed app and bite at my lip as I see the device sync up. Done.

I flush the toilet, wash my hands, and make my way out of the bedroom. When I step back into your living room kitchen, you’re seated at the short island, your back to the small living room.

“Thanks for letting me use your bathroom,” I say, making my way back to the front door. You swivel the chair as I walk by and watch me duck for my boots.

“Thanks for bringing me my phone. I was almost going to head out to Anavrin–”

“Oh, I don’t work Saturdays. You would’ve missed me entirely.” I say all matter-of-factly, like an asshole. You shrink.

“Noted.”

As I loop the laces around, I look up at you. Your brows knit together and you avert your eyes from me. I watch you for another moment, smiling to myself. You’re nervous.

“What’re all the boxes for?” I ask, looking around the apartment. They’re a little sprawled out everywhere, but most of them are still folded up. I chew my cheek as I wonder – are you packing up to leave already? You just got here not even a week ago. Is that what’s gotten you so nervous? Cause I caught you? I bite my tongue and choose to rephrase my thoughts. “Still unpacking?”

“No, It’s… complicated.” You respond.

I nod my head and stand. Your eyes fleet to me for a second before drawing away. Is it me, Y/N? Am I making you nervous?

“Thank you again, for my phone.” You mumble, drifting off somewhere. I smile wide, and huff. You’re not a threat. A pest, likely. But not a threat.

“Yeah, no problem.”

I’m out the door not a moment later, spinning my keys while on the way to my car.

—

Back at my apartment, I notice the door’s unlocked.

I'm cautious as I walk through the threshold, peering ahead only to notice Love behind the counter.

“Love, I didn’t expect you to break into my apartment.” I tease, taking off my boots and shedding my jacket.

“I thought you’d be home,” she whines. “Besides, it’s not breaking in when you’ve got a key.”

I make my way into the kitchen, to her side, and slip my hands around her waist. She turns her head to look at me, a big smile on her face.

“Where were you?” She mumbles, still looking down at the counter.

“I went over to Y/N’s apartment,” I began, rolling the hem of her shirt between my fingers. “She forgot her phone in my car last night.” I kiss her shoulder.

“Mmh,” Love hums. “That was nice of you.”

I look over her shoulder, noticing the restaurant brochures infront of her.

“What were you doing here?”

“Looking for something to order. I don’t really want to cook again tonight.”

I lift my hands off her hips, placing them on either side of the counter. I press forward, and slide one of the menus into view.

“This one seems good.” I whisper, inconsiderate of what I’m pointing to. I’ve got one thing on my mind right now, and it isn’t the brochures.

Catching onto my carelessness, Love turns around and faces me. She tilts her head and observes my face for a moment before sliding her arms around my neck.

“How did it go?” Love suddenly inquires about us again.

“It went well,” I tell her, keeping it short. Still, she pries.

“Tell me more,”

“Well, she showed me to her bathroom,” I look around, as though I was recalling the few minutes I stood in your apartment. I’ll keep the snooping to myself. “Aaand, that’s about it.”

Love thins her lip. She’s pensive for a moment. She thinks, and I watch her grapple with her thoughts as she looks about the kitchen. She clears her throat before speaking.

“Will,” She starts, her hand taps my chest and I watch it circle around. “I wouldn’t be asking you this if it wasn’t important, but… can you do me a huge favour?”

My hands find Love’s face, cupping her cheeks, and pressing her forehead to mine. My eyes search hers, and I pout.

“Anything for you,” I tell her. Anything.

“Forty has this thing tomorrow… I didn’t think ahead, and my plans are jumbled. But, this is really important.”

For a second, my stomach drops. I try not to let the horror show on my face as I’m convinced she’s about to glue me to Forty’s side for a day. But she continues.

“Y/N needs help clearing the apartment,” My eyes narrow, and I nod as I continue to listen. “You see… Will. It isn’t really my place to say this, but I thought you should know her mom passed away a few months ago. She’s been trying to sort through the estate, and they finally gave her the green light to clear out her old apartment. I can’t be there to help.”

Love’s hands slide over mine, cupping my fingers as I cup her cheeks.

“Are you free sometime tomorrow? Would you be able to help her out?”

With this revelation, the framed pictures sitting on the dresser make sense.

“I mean… yeah. I can do that.”

Love lights up at my response, hopping up for an intimate kiss. My hands fall to her ass, but she pulls away too soon. Always too soon.

“Thank you, Will,” She grins, tapping my chest again. “I’ll let her know.”

As Love pulls out her phone, I watch her tap away at the screen.

“You know, that entire complex looks unlivable. The place might have a rodent problem, too.” I say as she hits send.

“I know! I told her she could stay with me,” Love leans her head against my chest with a frustrated huff, slipping her phone onto the counter.

“You both already spend so many afternoons together,” I begin, sliding her head up to look at me. My fingers brush her cheek, and my next words come out hushed. “If she was around any more, I’d never have you to myself.”

Her eyes flutter as my hands brush baby hairs out of her face. I hum, and lean in for another kiss.

“Will,” she starts, pressing her palm into my chest. She pushes me back, and I let her. “I’m not in the mood right now. Is that alright?”

I purse my lips… a little agitated, but I understand. I’m in the mood, but I understand. She doesn’t want to have sex, she wants to talk about you.

“Of course, Love,” I kiss her cheek. “Some other time.”

With a smile, she returns her attention to those stupid brochures. I agree to whatever she wants, whatever she’s in the mood for. I always do.

Once dinner’s sorted, we pair it with a movie on my tv. We cuddle, and it’s nice. During an intimate scene, a quiet one with rustling bedsheets, Love decides to speak.

“I’m glad you’re getting along well with Y/N.” She says with a hum, rubbing her face into my chest. I grunt when her hand squeezes my knee. “She appreciates it too, I know it. She doesn’t know many people in the city anymore.”

I tear my eyes away from the sex on tv to look Love in the eyes.

“Are you doing anything tomorrow?”

“Yeah, I have that thing with Forty. Someone seems a little forgetful tonight” I laugh and apologize, scolding myself. Of course… Tomorrow. I did forget. She turns her attention back to the movie. When I reluctantly return my own attention to the screen, I can’t help but scrutinise everything I see. Love seems pleased, watching the protagonist and her girlfriend lounge after what felt like the most drawn-out fucking I’d ever witnessed on tv. She’s probably thinking to herself: what a nice couple, happy, in love, and all tuckered out. But I feel differently. I see something I’m missing. We could be them, Love and I. But, instead of being wrapped in each other with more to do than to SAY, I think about the brick phone, I think about the lunch dates, I think about the selfishness of only reaching out when things became convenient, and I think about YOU. I think about the rust on your door, think about your dead mom, I think about how Love wants me to help you pack her things – like I’m some tool to be borrowed and Love’s the kind neighbour willing to lend – and I think about how Love touches you and I can’t help but wish I could crawl into your skin and rip you up from the inside.

The bell on your bag rings in my ears, jingling as you tap it over, and over again. Should I feel threatened by you? Because I do, even when everything about you proves to me you’re no threat at all. You’re meek, small, pathetic. Despite it all, you’ve stepped into my yard, trampled the very bushes I’ve trimmed and watered to perfection, and made yourself cozy against the love of my life. And, like a call to battle, the bell stirs something in me.

But you’re innocent, I cry in my head. You’re not Peach. You’re no evil mastermind, and stepping into someone else’s yard doesn’t mean much when you’re a helpless rabbit. Your mom is dead, you’re grieving. I think about you, in my car, curled in on yourself, skin exposed. Scared. I grit my teeth at the thought.

When Love departs, just after the movie ends, I spend some time catching up on your messages. That’s all I can really do, actually. With such an old model, your system doesn’t allow access to anything, anywhere, anytime. Just the text messages. I scroll to find your mention of me dropping by earlier.

‘Left my phone in Will’s car. He dropped it off.’

‘He’s the best <3’ Love responded.

About twenty minutes after that, Love let you know I’m replacing her tomorrow.

‘We can reschedule.’ You tried, but Love tells you the plans are already made. You can’t run from this. Neither can I.

I recline on my couch, huffing as I read as far as your messages go. I couldn’t get the older logs but anything you send from here on out, I have access to. When the late hours of the night finally catch up to me, I look out my window at the flickering street lights, and I head to bed.

[miss-oranje-disco-dancer]

i've been waiting for you

part three of daddy all along: part 1 here, part 2 here

pairing: older (dad's best friend)! leon x younger! reader

cw: brief mention of past suicidal ideations, oral sex, semi-public sexual activities, love

summary: the aftermath of daddy all along pt 2 (you had me at 'hello'). mild angst, mild smut, mild fluff. their trials and tribulations still have a happy ending

a/n: this is a commission for the lovely @porcelainseashore <3 !!

wc: 8k

title is a reference to the song of the same title by ABBA. (this story is best experienced alongside the song).

The kiss you shared was laced with the kind of love that was powerful enough to stop time. Until your father interrupted the sacred moment with a far-from-subtle “ahem”.

You turned to see him in the hallway, standing behind you. He’d just witnessed the spectacle. You weren’t sure whether to be angry that he interrupted you or that he wasn’t applauding your love, which had gone through trials and tribulations and come out stronger on the other side.

“I suppose I missed a lot while I was in rehab,” he said.

You looked at Leon, hoping he’d have an answer, but his mind was still hazy from the kiss.

“I think I deserve a briefing on this,” your dad said, nodding towards the living room, an order to follow him.

You silently did as he asked, but Leon lingered in the doorway, uncertain despite the simple directions.

“Leon?” your father called him back to reality.

“Yes, sir,” Leon said, still drunk on the kiss.

“We’ve been friends for decades, don’t call me ‘sir’.

Leon had to resist the urge to say “yes, sir” again. He nodded and stepped into the house, closing the door behind him. He followed you both into the living room and sat on the couch with you, placing a noticeable distance between his body and yours, in an effort to keep things appropriate in front of your father. Though it only served to make things more awkward.

“So?” your dad said, looking back and forth between the two of you, probing you both for answers.

“You saw what happened a minute ago. What more is there to say?” you said because you didn’t know how to tell the story. At least, not in a way that would be acceptable to him.

“I think there’s a lot more to say,” he said. “What happened while I was away? Did you two get together?”

You tried to be as diplomatic as possible, which meant being vague. “We got to spend a lot of time together while you were gone, and we realized that we have feelings for each other. Well, I already knew I liked Leon, but I didn’t know he liked me back.” You conveniently left out the part about having sex on your birthday.

Your father turned to Leon, looking for his explanation. It was about as revealing as yours. “I know it might seem a little weird, but I love your daughter, and I care a lot about her. I always have.”

Leon looked at you affectionately. He even dared to reach across the couch and grab your hand as proof of his love.

“Are you mad?” you asked your dad.

“No, I’m not mad. Like Leon said, it’s just weird for me… to see you two like this.” He turned to Leon, and said, “I know you’re a good man, Leon. I’ve always known that, but I know your history with women, and I need to know that you’re not going to use my daughter… as a hook up. I don’t want her heart to get broken.”

It pained you to hear your dad mention Leon’s past relationships, or lack thereof. Was it worse to think of him as a man with a history of one-night stands, or a man who’s truly loved other women before you?

Your dad played it as cool as possible, holding in all the things he wanted to say, until you decided to head to bed. You hoped Leon would come with you, but your dad asked him to stay downstairs under the guise of hanging out together for the first time since he’d been home.

Still, you sat at the base of the stairs to listen in on their conversation. You always did. Any information you had about Leon or your father – their lives outside of being your caretakers – was gathered through this method.

“I’m sorry, but you can’t. You’re gonna break her heart, and I can’t let you do that.”

“You know I’d never let her get hurt.”

“She’s gone through so much lately… with the accident, me going to rehab, and now, coming home. It’s not fair to shake up her life even more.”

“Are you hearing yourself right now? You’re asking me not to shake up her life because she’s dealing with the problems you’ve caused?”

There was a pause, and you swore you could see the looks on their faces. Your father’s horror, Leon’s regret.

“I’m sorry… I didn’t mean it like that,” Leon backtracked.

“Go,” your father said, stern, but not aggressive. “I’ll tell her you had to leave and you didn’t wanna wake her.”

You heard Leon’s heavy footsteps walking towards the door and you bolted up the stairs, slipping in your socks and falling face-first on your way.

Leon saw it happen, but didn’t move. He used to pick you up when you fell. His arms were strong, but the awkwardness weighed them down, and he couldn’t reach out to catch you. Your father heard the thunk-thunk-thunk sound and ran over.

You turned to them, realizing the option for flight was gone. You had to fight — for Leon, for you and Leon.

“You were just gonna lie to me? Both of you were gonna lie to me?” You were used to your father lying. As angry as you were, you weren’t surprised by his behavior. Leon’s near-instant agreement to go along with his lies was what made your heart sink. How many times had he done this? Was your whole life a series of your father’s lies and Leon’s willingness to cover them up?

“Listen, sweetheart,” your dad said, “I was just trying to keep you safe.”

“You only care about me now that you’re home, and all you wanna do is control me again,” you said. Holding back tears, you turned to Leon. “And you, you wouldn’t even fight for us? After you came here to confess your love for me? Is it all just bullshit to you?”

“No, I care about you,” he said, “just like your dad does.”

“No, that’s bullshit. Neither of you care about me,” you said, stomping up the stairs and shutting yourself in your bedroom. Nothing good would come out of arguing further. It was 2 vs 1, an unfair fight, you’d better quit before you embarrass yourself.

It was ironic, you realized, how — mere hours ago — you would’ve given anything to have your two favorite people here with you. Now, you got what you wanted — what you thought you wanted — and you would give it all away in an instant. Maybe you were right, back at the dinner table, when the realization came to you that you couldn’t have it all. You’d have to choose between leaving Leon and disappointing your dad.

It was wholly frustrating that you did have them both for most of your life – there didn’t have to be a choice, there was always dad and Leon. Leon was right, sleeping together was a big deal, and maybe you should’ve heeded his warnings.

Questions flooded your mind, all unanswerable. Is this what regret feels like? If you could turn back time would you change it?

Who can you cry to when the people you love most are the ones who hurt you?

When you snuck downstairs later that night to grab a glass of water, Leon was gone. He’d left hours ago. You weren’t sure who to be more angry with – dad or Leon. Their previous togetherness multiplied the amount of love you received as a child, and now it multiplied the loss.

You refused to speak to your dad for days. You didn’t have to refuse to speak to Leon, as he didn’t try to reach out. You learned how to draw and ripped up the pages, you started journaling and ripped out the pages. You called a friend and tried to avoid explaining what was going on. But it was hard to think about anything else. Your life was filled with Leon, Leon, Leon. Like always. Sure, you’d lived with him for months during your father’s rehab, but you had a life before him – no, not before him, but before his constant presence. But where was it?

Leon left. Clearly you weren’t in the mood to see him, and your dad had explicitly told him to leave. What’s that saying? “If you love something, let it go”? Leon tried that with Ada many years ago. He let her go, and she came back, and then she left again, sticking them in a perpetual cycle of what he perceived to be intimacy and completely ignoring the others’ existence. They’d been seeing each other periodically for decades. Leon’s love for her faded a little bit every time she left the morning after. He let her go and she let him go. If she wasn’t willing to fight for him, then he wouldn’t fight for her. But, you were different. The way Leon loved you made him consider the possibility that whatever he felt for Ada wasn’t love. More likely it was a deadly combination of admiration, attraction, and misplaced trust. Plus, the inextricable link that forms between people who’ve saved each other’s lives.

Usually, Leon didn’t give himself time to make mistakes in his relationships – he tended to leave the morning after, never wanting to be a nuisance. If a woman ever came home with him, he’d make her coffee in the morning and lend her a clean towel so she could shower. He didn’t think he had much else to offer.

He knew how you took your coffee and how you liked your eggs. He knew how to set the thermostat to your preferred temperature. There was always more in his heart for you.

A woman thought he was being considerate when she noticed that he had tampons under the sink, but really they were for you, not her. Another thought he was seeing someone else when you left your toothbrush at his apartment. How could he explain to her that you were the most important woman he knew, but no, he wasn’t seeing you. That was well over a year ago. It should’ve been easier after “I’m in love with you.” Who is she? She’s my girlfriend. A one-word explanation.

He tried to devise a plan to win you back, like the male love interest in a cheesy rom-com. He seriously considered the prospect of showing up at your house with a boombox playing Peter Gabriel like Lloyd from Say Anything. It would probably give you second-hand embarrassment, he decided. If only he knew, you’d still take him back.

Leon knew you well enough to know your idiosyncrasies. You stayed up to watch American Idol on Monday nights. You’d be in the living room if he came over around 9. He could park around the corner and sneak up to your window. Your dad wouldn’t be watching unless he had a complete change of heart. (He’d refused to watch American Idol since the contestant he liked didn’t win in Season 2 – he was convinced from then on the competition was rigged.)

Leon got home from work, quickly changed, and headed over to your house on his motorcycle, hoping he could convince you to go for a ride with him. Something you’d never done before. Because he hadn’t allowed you to. Maybe he should have worried about the possibility that he was letting his protectiveness over you slip to accommodate his need to please you. As much as you used to beg him to do things he considered too dangerous, he’d never budge. Watching you throw a fit always pained him, but being a father figure meant protecting always superseded placating. 

Had you broken down his ability to refuse you? Or was he a selfish man looking for love in a girl he should be hesitant to pursue?

Monday night came and he knocked on your window in the special pattern the two of you had established many years ago when you were afraid of letting a “bad guy” into your room by accident as a child. Knock – pause – knock, knock – pause – knock.

You immediately knew it was him. He could see in your face that you were ready to run out the door to him, so he held his finger to his lips to remind you to be quiet. Thanks to the summer weather, you could step outside without having to make a ruckus by putting on your coat.

Your teenage years weren’t far behind you, and with a former cop for a father, you knew how to sneak out. Under the porch-light, you were barely visible, but Leon could hear your smile when you spoke.

“You came back,” you said, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“I told you I’d never leave you.”

“Are you gonna come in?”

“I don’t think your father would like that very much.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Because I love you. And I want you to come out with me, just for a little bit.”

You learned your persuasion from Leon. You’d watched him talk his way in and out of endless situations, from speeding tickets to free food. And those people were strangers. He already had you wrapped around his finger.

“Okay,” you said, “but I should leave a note, so my dad doesn’t think I went missing.”

“Good girl,” Leon said, and when you looked in his eyes you could tell he was trying to get you worked up. And he was succeeding.

“Wait- where are we going?” you asked.

“I was going to let you choose.”

“Can we go to the hill? I’ll get a blanket for us to sit on.”

Leon was ready to blow his salary on you, and all you wanted was to lie down in the grass. His worries about your safety riding on the back of his bike were no longer a problem, since the hill was within walking distance.

“That sounds great to me.”

You returned to him moments later with your hair tied up, cherry-flavored chapstick on, and a picnic blanket under your arm. Leon carried the blanket with one arm, and held out his other, offering you his hand.

Somehow – after sex, after a love confession, after knowing Leon for your entire life up to that very moment – holding his hand made your heart flutter. You hoped your hands weren’t too sweaty. His were warm and calloused with a scar on one palm. You discovered this long ago. His hands were the ones to bandage you when you fell off your bike, the ones that wiped your tears after a nightmare, the ones that rubbed your back when he hugged you. You knew them well.

You walked to the hill where you used to go sledding as a child. It was tucked into a corner behind a thin curtain of trees, a little neighborhood secret. Leon put down the picnic blanket in a secluded spot where the street lamps couldn’t outshine the stars. You laid on your back, unsure of where to put your hands. They remained awkwardly on your stomach. You could feel Leon’s eyes on you. You turned to him and he snaked his arm around your shoulders and pulled you closer.

“What’s up with you?” he asked.

“Nothing. Why?”

“No, not nothing. You’re nervous.”

“Is it really that obvious?”

“Yes. Are you worried about your dad finding out? I’ll make sure you don’t get into any trouble with him. You can blame it all on me.”

“No, I’m not worried about him.”

“Then what’s got you all anxious?”

“This is gonna sound so stupid.”

“It might, but that almost makes me wanna hear it more.”

“You’re so smooth, like, you’re giving me butterflies and I don’t know how you do it. I feel so awkward and I wish I was better at this.”

He laughed, really laughed.

“See? I told you it was stupid. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“No, no, baby.” He put his hand on your arm before you could turn from him. “I was laughing because I am the exact opposite of ‘smooth’. Ask anyone I know and they’ll tell you that I’m awful at flirting.”

“But you’re so good at it right now.”

“This isn’t flirting. I’m just having a good time with you. I’m not trying to get you in bed or whatever. I love you and I wanna spend time with you.”

Leon didn’t know that he felt that way until the words left his mouth. It didn’t miss him that you didn’t say “I love you” in return. He was old enough to accept the fact that sometimes people don’t say it back, or at least, to cover up whatever anxiety he felt when it happened.

“I love you” wasn't sufficient to describe how you felt in that moment. You grasped for words for as long as you could bear the silence. You ended up concluding that in this case, actions could substitute for words. So, you kissed him, letting your lips guide you unrestrained so that soon you were engrossed in a full-blown make-out session, hands in each other’s hair, grasping at each other’s shirts. Every time you pulled away to catch your breath, you thought you’d stop to talk – but you found yourself giving into the desire to kiss him endlessly. At least, until your breath was heaving. All you’d done was kiss.

“I want you,” you said, reaching down past Leon’s hips to find him hard.

“We shouldn’t,” he said, though you could see the intrigue in his upturned lips.

“No one’s around.”

“I’ve taken enough risks for one night. Your dad is going to murder me if he finds out I helped sneak you out of the house, and I think it’d be a lot worse if he found out from the one free phone call you’re allowed when the cops take you in.”

“What if we didn’t have sex? What if we just did a little bit more than kissing?”

“What does ‘more’ look like to you?”

“I wanna touch you. We won’t even have to take our clothes off.”

He sighed, and a bashful grin appeared on his face. He didn’t agree with words, believing he could do much better with his fingertips on your skin. Leon kissed you from your lips to your neck to your collarbone, even daring to place one on one of your breasts. It was risky to pull your top down to do it, but Leon wanted to mark you someplace only he could see it.

As soon as his hand reached the threshold between panties and skin, you unzipped his pants and started touching him. You locked eyes and stayed forehead-to-forehead until he kissed you forcefully, capturing your moans before they left your mouth.

You were left in a daze after your orgasm while Leon was hit with a moment of clarity that was much different this time than the last. He understood the risks clearly, and yet, had no second thoughts. There was nowhere he’d rather be than holding you under the stars.

When you arrived home from your date with Leon, you found your father in the kitchen.

He knew.

“We need to talk.”

“About what?”

“Where were you tonight?”

“With a friend.”

“Is your friend’s name “Leon”?”

“Don’t get mad. Please, dad.”

“Why didn’t you ask me before you went out?”

“Because I thought you’d say no.”

“At least you’re honest.” He picked up a can from the table and took a sip of it, and for a second, you thought it was beer, you thought you could turn the tables. You noticed it was a can of soda about a second before you opened your mouth to yell at him.

“I can’t stop you from sleeping with him, but you’re not doing it while you live under my roof.”

“Why are you so obsessed with the idea of us having sex?! It’s not the only thing we do.”

“Sure. You hang out. That doesn’t mean it’s love, nor does it mean that it’ll last.”

“You don’t know anything about love.”

“Maybe so. But Leon is a man in his forties who’s never had a serious relationship. And there’s a reason for that.”

“Maybe he hadn’t found the right person.”

“All I’m saying is that I can’t remember the last time I saw him go on a second date with a woman, let alone have a long-term relationship.”

“And? You ended up being a single father because you fucked up so bad that mom left you!” And if Freud was right, then that’s why I have daddy issues.

“I will not have you talk to me that way.”

“What are you gonna do about it?”

“I’ll ask you to go upstairs and think about your words or you can pack your bags and go.”

The second option was hyperbole. He would never kick you out. But you took it as truth and grabbed your purse. You called Leon from the driveway.

Your father’s disapproval became the least of your worries once you began staying with Leon. What was eating at you was the comment your father made about Leon’s love life. Over dinner one night, you confronted him.

“You said you’ve been in love before, right?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Do you still love her?”

“No.” He was sure of it. He liked Ada, liked having sex with her, but he’d fallen out of love with her a long time ago. That ship had sailed.

“How did it end?”

“What?”

“The relationship with whoever you were in love with.”

“There wasn’t really a relationship. There was nothing to end.”

You hummed in contemplation.

“Why are you so interested in this all of a sudden?”

“I don’t want you to fall out of love with me.”

“I don’t plan to, and that situation was entirely different than what we have. This, what’s between us, is much stronger.”

He looked you in the eyes, and said much softer, “I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you.”

“Why should I believe you?”

“Because I can’t fall out of love with you. I tried to, multiple times. It didn’t work and that’s why I’m here.”

“What do you mean you ‘tried to fall out of love’ with me?”

“I slept with other people… as you know,” he said, nearly wincing at the awful memory of you catching him with another woman in your living room. “And, the night I came to your house, I had just left a date.”

“So, you slept with someone before you came over and-”

“No, I went out to dinner, and she offered me… the opportunity to go back to her place, but I said no.”

“Was she ugly? Unfuckable by your standards?”

“No, wait- what?” He shook his head and tried to explain it the best he could. “I was thinking about that night in the hotel room when you said that thing about Celine and Jesse and I actually brought it up to the girl.”

“You told her about that night?”

“No, I just mentioned how I liked the movie.”

“And?”

“And she said she didn’t like it.”

“And that’s the reason you decided I was a better choice? Because she didn’t like your favorite 90s romance movie?”

“No, well, sort of, but no… I just started thinking about how you love that movie and how she’s nothing like you, and how I love you. And then I saw your picture in my wallet and… I just knew what I had to do.”

For a moment, you wondered if he was just trying to get in your pants. If he was, it was working. You gave in, telling yourself that his intentions shouldn’t matter because he wasn’t manipulating you, you were hoping he’d ask you to sleep with him anyway. You weren’t going to let your dad’s assumptions get to your head.

Leon scavenged the house but couldn’t find any condoms. “I think I’m all out,” he said, sounding very apologetic. “The drug store’s still open, though, so just gimme like 15 minutes, and I’ll be back.”

You beckoned him closer. “What if we just didn’t use one?” you asked, putting on your cutest face.

“Uh-uh,” he said, “and before you try to talk me into it, I’m serious.”

“But Leon…”

“No, that’s my final answer. I can go to the store or we can do this another time.”

“Or you could just pull out.”

“You went to health class, right?”

You nodded.

“Then, you know that the pull-out method isn’t 100% effective. Or did you convince me to pick you up the day they taught that?”

You actually had convinced him to pick you up that day, but you were still aware of the pregnancy risk if you didn’t use protection.

“What if I wanted to get pregnant?”

“You’re joking, right? This is a hypothetical.”

“Sort of, but you’re getting older – no offense – and if we wanna have kids, then maybe we should start before your sperm count decreases.”

“My sperm count is fine, and no, we are not ready for a baby.”

“You might not be.”

“Sorry, I meant you are not ready for a baby. I could take care of a child, but you’re 21.” Suddenly, your age-gap seemed to widen in Leon’s mind. He felt like he’d already raised a kid and you weren’t close to being ready to have one.

“Okay, fine,” you said. “But you wanna have kids someday, right…?” It was wishful thinking, and though you had no reason to believe Leon had the same idea in mind, you believed he did. In all your daydreams you were parents.

He was completely taken aback. “Uh…” The last time he’d been asked if he wanted to have kids it was a theoretical question, from Claire, decades ago. Back when they thought it might still be a possibility in this lifetime. “I don’t know…” He decided not to say any more, fearing he’d disappoint you.

“But, I do, and I think I’d be a good mom.” After the words left your mouth, it hit you, the horrible realization. No, you might not be a good mother, and in fact, if you had to put money on it, you wouldn’t bet on your success. If you were anything like your parents, you’d be terrible at it. It must’ve shown on your face because Leon’s expression shifted from stern to sympathetic.

“Hey,” he said, placing a hand on your shoulder, “I think you could be a great mom one day, but let’s not talk about it tonight.”

You looked up at him with tears in your eyes and wiped them away with the back of your hand before they could fall. “Yeah,” you said, forcing a smile. You tried to awkwardly laugh your way out of the discussion and Leon must’ve felt bad enough for you not to call you out.

Sex was no longer on the table – that conversation had gone stale. The idea was wholly unpalatable that night, for both of you.

“Sorry,” you said, stopping yourself before you could start your own pity party.

“Nothing to be sorry about,” he said. If you were apologizing for being obstinate and trying to manipulate your way into unprotected sex, he’d take the apology, but he knew what you meant: I’m sorry for killing your boner and crushing my own dreams. It wasn’t your fault for hoping Leon could be more than the man he was.

You fell asleep quickly, as one does after crying. Leon’s arms around you eased your pain. Some things never changed.

When you were younger, like many little girls, you liked to play with baby dolls – you bottle-fed them, pushed them in a stroller, rocked them to sleep, but it was all pretend. You believed motherhood would be easy back then, and it wasn’t like Leon was going to crush a little girl’s dreams by telling her the harsh realities of being a parent.

When you were very little – little enough that this memory is one only Leon bore the burden of keeping – Leon mentioned something about you pretending to be a mommy, to which you remarked, “I don’t know how to play mommy.”

Sure, kids talk nonsense, but regardless of your intent, you didn’t have a mother figure, and you never would. Leon didn’t have the same delusional optimism that your father had in the beginning. He was convinced your mom would come back to him. Leon knew better than to get his hopes up, not that he had much at stake.

Ironically, the father you grew up with, the morbid, ever-pessimistic father, was a direct result of his prior optimism. He decided being a cynic would protect him from being disappointed. He never perfected the art of acting happy in front of the kid quite like Leon did. Then again, Leon knew depression, even suicidality, but he’d never been heartbroken to the extent that your dad had because he’d never given himself over to someone entirely. After watching your dad fall headfirst into alcoholism, Leon was being reasonable by keeping himself guarded. Or so he thought at the time. Now, he began to consider the fact that he may not have been as brave as he’d always thought he was. He was a hero, risking his life to eradicate the threats of bioterrorism worldwide. But, he didn’t choose that life, he fell into his position as an agent due to his own cowardice – at least, that’s how he felt when he couldn’t pull the trigger when he held his own gun to his temple.

In retrospect, he was glad he hadn’t gone through with his plan to off himself. Classify it how you want – cowardice for backing down or bravery for deciding to stay alive – Leon was still alive decades later. And before him stood another one of life’s toughest decisions, though the answer was much clearer this time. Would he let himself fall in love with you, knowing you could break his heart? Yes, though, he didn’t have much say in the matter by the time he realized what was happening. He didn’t choose to set his soul on the table in front of a starving woman. You pulled it out of him with every kiss, every laugh, every steady breath you took while you lay next to him in bed.

When Leon walked in the door, you were there to greet him like a pet who’d been left alone for hours, desperate for affection. Unlike a puppy, you didn’t pounce on him immediately. With his arms behind his back, he said, “I got you a present — pick a hand.”

As skeptical as you were, your intrigue was stronger. You tapped his right arm and he held out a box of condoms. “Surprise,” he said.

“I think this ‘present’ might be for you,” you said.

“You caught me,” he said, already leaning in for the kiss that would lead to the night’s escapades.

Leon planned to take you to the bedroom like a gentleman would, but you dragged him over to the couch, shoved him into a seated position, and stripped in front of him. He had to resist the urge to speak, knowing he’d say something stupid since the image of you in your current state had taken over his mind entirely, turning everything else to mush. The only organ still at work was the one in his pants, and that one was working overtime.

You straddled his lap once you were down to your underwear – a matching lace set. Since you and Leon had become official, you made sure you were always prepared. Not that he expected you to dress up for him. Maybe it was the nagging voice in the back of your mind that constantly reminded you that he’d been with other women. You had others to compete with for the top spot in his mind. He didn’t. He was your best and your only.

You had no idea how many women Leon had been with – romantically or sexually, and you were afraid to ask, worried that the amount would be high enough that he wouldn’t recall the exact number. He told you that you were the best he’d ever had, but people lie. All the time.

You tore off Leon’s dress shirt, haphazardly popping one of the buttons off. “I liked this shirt,” Leon mumbled, momentarily disappointed.

When you sank to your knees, all was forgiven. There was a tiny voice in the back of his head that told him this was wrong. He should be taking care of you, right? You’re his baby girl, you can’t do this – not that he’s naive enough to believe that you’re the innocent little girl you used to be, he knew for a fact that you’d left that girl in the past for a woman who was looking at him bright-eyed, kneeling at his feet – but you could get hurt doing this, you could choke if you overexerted yourself.

You were teary-eyed and gagging before he could think of a way to protect your poor throat. An overachiever. Part of Leon’s mind was enraptured by the sight and begging him to let you continue. If you were any other girl, maybe he would give over all control to you. But the reasonable man he became the day he met you, a baby wrapped in a pink blanket, remained stronger than the sex-crazed idiot he was before.

He pulled you off of him gently. Maybe it was just an illusion from your watery eyes, but you looked hurt.

“What did I do wrong?”

“Nothing,” he said, soft and sweet, “but you’re gonna hurt yourself if you keep doing it like that.”

“I want to make you feel good.”

“You are.”

“But I wanna do more, I wanna please you.”

“You wanna please me, huh?” You could see the glint of mischief in his eyes, but you hadn’t figured out its source yet.

“Yes, please, I’ll do whatever you want.”

“Whatever I want?” He pretended to be astonished by your offer. You were being hyperbolic, he assumed – he hoped. “Okay,” he said, standing up, “c’mon.” He held out his hand for you to take.

You grabbed his hand without hesitation, and he led you to the bedroom. The tables turned the moment you entered the room when he pushed you down on the bed. He climbed atop you and kissed you forcefully, undoing your bra with his deft fingers.

With open-mouthed kisses he made his way down your stomach stopping only to remove your panties, only a thin layer of lace between his mouth and your core. He was more careful when he undressed you than you were when you did the same for him. He wanted to see you in this again.

His lips teased your inner thighs first. He placed soft kisses everywhere except the place you wanted to feel his mouth most. He only gave in when you started to squirm. The sound you made when his tongue touched your clit told him how much you longed for this.

“You taste so good, baby,” he said, words muffled as his mouth was occupied.

“Leon, wait-”

He looked up at you, with kiss-dark lips and a dazed expression, clearly having been somewhere else mentally.

“I said I wanted to please you, so-”

“Trust me, I am more than pleased with what I’m doing right now.”

You were conflicted. Maybe he was a rare breed of man who truly got off on going down on women, or maybe he was lying. But if he were, he would be doing it because he wanted to make you happy. Because he wanted you.

And who were you to deny him?

You were multiple orgasms in when you finally got Leon to come up for air. His hair was a mess all thanks to your hands tugging at the strands. You were surprised he came up looking relatively unscathed when you’d worried you’d suffocated him with your thighs, maybe twisted his neck too. But, no, he met you face-to-face with a grin, only superseded in prominence by his hard-on.

You ran your thumb over his tip, through the fabric of his underwear which now had a small wet spot, and he groaned.

“My offer still stands,” you said.

His eyes flickered to your smile, which was wider than his and even his ever-bleeding heart couldn’t protest. His dick wasn’t the only part of him that wanted you.

Leon always had an acute awareness of his own mortality. From the moment his parents were ripped away from him as a child, he realized the harsh reality that death can never be fully anticipated and all too often it happens far too early in one’s life. He was aware of that fact, but hadn’t watched anyone die in front of him until the Raccoon City incident. It takes seeing to believe. And even after believing the truth, it took him years to accept it.

It took him until he was 40 to get to that point. Even then, every ill-fated day that Hunnigan called him while he was with you, he was confronted with the same unsettling feeling, the fear of death that he thought he’d gotten over.

If he had to leave unexpectedly, he’d wake you up before he did, give you a hug goodbye. Sometimes, you were in such a deep sleep that you didn’t remember him saying goodbye at all. You’d later accuse him of leaving without telling you, and from then on, he’d leave a note by your bedside to confirm that he’d been there.

You kept them in a box in your closet. They were the sad reminders of the fact that he was gone, but they smelled like him. You always wondered how it was possible for paper to absorb the scent of someone’s cologne so easily. As it turned out, it wasn’t magic or an obscure fact of science, but rather, Leon spraying cologne directly onto the paper because he knew you liked the smell of it.

In the beginning, you watched Leon get dressed in the morning just as you’d imagined back in the hotel room months ago.

Leon got up early while you stayed in bed, but he never left without kissing you goodbye. It was a bit of tradition and a bit of superstition. When he cupped your cheek, you felt the cold metal from the watch on his wrist against your skin.

Eventually, you became accustomed to the sound of Leon’s 6:30 AM alarm and the feeling of his weight being lifted from the bed. You could sleep through his morning routine until the goodbye kiss he always gave you on the forehead. Loving, but so sadly superstitious on his end.

You realized that part later.

You were awoken bright and early by Leon, which was generally a beautiful thing – though, that morning you could hear the apprehension in his voice. You were acutely aware that something was wrong. Sometimes it seemed his hyper-vigilance was wearing off on you.

“What’s wrong?” you asked.

He held himself back from asking you how you knew. “Nothing major,” he sighed, picking his words carefully. “I have to leave this afternoon.”

“Where are you going?” Based on his tone, you could guess that it wasn’t a tropical island vacation. He had business to take care of, and you certainly weren’t going with him. It didn’t really matter what city or country he was leaving for; it was all equally dangerous.

“Romania. I might be gone for a few weeks.” So, I woke you up early to spend as many hours with you as possible before I leave.

“I’m going to miss you,” you said, though your voice gave way to something you wouldn’t say until hours later, when you were naked in the sheets together, having one last bout of intimacy before his flight: “I’m scared of you dying”.

Often, in the post-orgasmic bliss, you tell him how much you love him, how good the sex was, and infinite praises. That morning, you told him you were scared he was going to die, and the minutes before that meant something entirely different. While he was away, memories of you beneath him would permeate his mind. It wasn’t the first time you had affected his ability to focus in the field, but now, he was overcome with not only longing, but also sadness and an unprecedented wave of guilt. How could he leave you like this? You must be worried sick. Hopefully, you’ve patched things over with your dad.

While Leon was gone, you moved back in with your dad. You rung his doorbell, ready to beg for his forgiveness, something you never thought you’d have to do.

To your surprise, he opened the front door with a smile.

“It’s good to see you,” he said when he pulled you into a hug. “I missed my little girl.”

You had convinced yourself that you’d made yourself immune to your father’s actions, that he couldn’t make you cry anymore. But, you broke down in tears. You were so used to apologies, excuses, and bargains. He rarely said he missed you, and never with such conviction.

“I missed you too, dad,” you said, refusing to let go of him. You had the shared knowledge that you didn’t mean that you’d missed him for the small period of time you spent at Leon’s, you missed the person he was when he was sober, the person who was standing in front of you. There was a significant period of your childhood during which he was sober, or at least rarely drunk, but you’d accepted that the man he was then had abandoned you. He was home.

He noticed your suitcase, and asked, “Are you planning on staying awhile?” He was trying not to get his hopes up. That was something you had in common.

“Can I?” you asked.

“Of course. I haven’t changed your room into a man cave just yet.”

He carried your suitcase upstairs, he helped you put the fitted sheet on your bed, he cooked dinner and sat across the table from you. It didn’t feel like a transaction or a placation either.

The topic was inevitably brought up.

“So, Leon…” he said, hoping you could fill in the blanks.

“I still love him, and I want to be with him,” you said.

His pointed gaze asked, why are you here?

“He had to leave for work,” you answered.

He nodded, accepting the situation. “I’ve been thinking a lot while you were gone.”

You braced yourself for impact.

“I think I was being too hard on Leon… and on you. I’ll admit, I still think it’s a little weird to see you two like that.” He looked up from his plate and made eye contact finally. “And I don’t want to find you two getting it on in my living room.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“But, as long as he’s good to you, I’ll learn to be supportive. I don’t want to lose either of you in my life, especially my daughter.”

“Me neither. I want to be with Leon, but I need my dad too.”

“I know.” He paused before saying, “Plus, I thought about it, and if you insist on dating a middle-aged man, there are much worse ones you could pick.”

Leon came home with a bloody nose, broken fingers and too many bruises to count. His clothes were torn and dirty, his eyes were tired, but his smile was warm as ever.

You wanted so badly to run into his embrace but you approached him slowly. Much like when he fell from the pedestal you kept him on the day you found him with another woman in the living room, his facade crumbled in front of you. His injuries were proof that he was breakable. He was made of skin and bone, powered by blood pumping through his veins just like you, not stardust or whatever angels are made of.

“I missed you,” you said, holding back tears.

“I missed you, too,” he said. He looked oddly well-adjusted to the situation. You wondered how many times he’d come home beaten up like this. Moreover, how many times there was a woman waiting for him.

This was the first time he'd tell you if you’d asked.

He headed towards the kitchen, but you stopped him.

“I’m just getting a glass of water, baby. I promise I’m not leaving.”

“I’ll get it. You should sit.”

He held up his hands in surrender. “Okay,” he said, backing towards the couch. He was too exhausted to argue. It was emasculating to have you take care of him, but he’d have to get used to it. He realized, then, that you’d do this for him – you’d have to – if you stayed with him through his old age. If he made it that far.

You brought him some water and sat down on the couch next to him. You surveyed his injuries. You tried not to stare, but failed. Even if he wasn’t covered in blood, you’d stare – he was the love of your life, how could you not?

“What?” he said, turning to you.

“Just looking at you,” you said, trying to remain cheery, though your tone gave way to something sad.

“I’m okay,” he said. “I’ve been through way worse.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better.”

He shrugged. “You told me to come back alive, not to come back unscathed,” he said.

You frowned. He grabbed your chin and moved closer to you, going in for the kiss. “If you don’t want me like this, then-” he started.

You cut him off with a kiss. You were lucky his lips weren’t injured. You could kiss him as hard as you wanted. And you did. When you pulled back, you said, “I want you like this. I’ve wanted you for weeks.”

He tried to speak, but you put your finger to his lips, shushing him. “But first,” you said, “I want to get you cleaned up.”

“Don’t worry. I planned on taking a shower before getting into bed.”

You stood and offered him your hand. He took it and headed for the bathroom, grabbing a towel from the linen closet on the way. When he noticed you were following him, he asked, “Are you coming with?”

“Yeah,” you said as if it should have been obvious. “Who else is going to help wash you?”

He sighed, and you could tell what he was thinking by the look on his face.

“You’ve taken care of me my whole life. Let me take care of you for once,” you said.

“Fine, but don’t get used to it. When I’m all healed, I’ll be taking care of you.”

“Whatever you say.”

You watched him strip and all of your thoughts faded – aside from one, which you spoke aloud. “You’re so hot. Your dick better not be injured.”

He laughed. “Don’t worry. I kept it safe just for you.”

He turned on the water and tried to adjust it to the optimal temperature, but he got distracted when your clothes came off. He whistled.

“Leon!” You covered up instinctively, feeling flustered by his whistling.

“Oh come on,” he said, “You’re gorgeous. I couldn’t help myself.”

His shower was not made for two – and it was further complicated by the fact that Leon had to bend over for you to be able to reach his head. But, you made it work. It felt emasculating, borderline humiliating, on his end to be so incapable of something simple, and to have to rely on his girlfriend to do it for him. But your soft hands washing his skin and your fingertips massaging his scalp, the way you made sure not to miss a single spot on his body, the way you cared – all he had was gratitude. And a whole lot of love for you.

[bullet-prooflove]

I’m drunk and I don’t wanna go home

Tagging: @kmc1989 @soultrysworld @Delicateflorencia @lazyquotesshadowart @thepurplebisexual 

The Fire Still Burns - The fire has never really gone out between you and Jimmy.

Jimmy doesn’t intent to get drunk. It’s just that he’s having such a good time that he loses track of how much wine you’ve both have been drinking. It isn’t until they start turning off the lights in the restaurant that he realises it’s late, very late.

You’re still laughing when you step into the cool nighttime air. He’s forgotten how beautiful you look when you smile, how it makes his heart thud a little harder in his chest, how his whole world lights up.

“I’m not ready for this to end just yet.” You say and he can’t help but grin because he isn’t either.

You end up at a karaoke bar around the corner, singing your hearts out to Bryan Adams, Cyndi Lauper and Bon Jovi. You’re a terrible singer but then again so is he and somehow it works.

The sun is just starting to rise when the two of you end up back out on the street. You’re both still drunk, falling into one another. He’s always liked the way you fit together, he’d thought you were his missing puzzle piece back in Med School. He still thinks that might be true now. He wonders what it might be like to kiss you, if you’d still taste the same on his lips.

When he puts you in a cab, something in his chest just aches and he remembers this feeling from almost two decades ago, when he let you walk out of his life to take the fellowship across the country.

“Let’s not leave it five years before we see each other again.” He finds himself saying as he holds open the door for you.

“You have my number.” You remind him as your lips brush across his cheek. “And you know where to find me.”

The scent of your perfume still clings to his skin when he gets home, it’s something dark, a little sensual. Amber and jasmine, he thinks. It reminds him of nights tangled up in your sheets, mouth covering yours, drinking down your pleasure as you’d come undone underneath him. He touches himself to that memory, stroking slowly, savouring the sensation. When he comes he spills his release all over his fist, the white streaks painting his stomach.

It's a couple of hours later that he wakes up naked and hungover his phone still in his hand. He groans at the pounding in his head, his vision is blurred and it him a minute to locate his glasses.

It’s only then that he sees the text message he sent, his cheeks colour as he reads it back.

I’ve just come all over myself thinking about the things we used to do.

It’s your message back that gets him hard again. It’s a two minute video entitled ‘Thinking of you’.

The camera is angled down towards your underwear. You’re clad in simple black cotton panties with a damp patch growing across the front as your fingertips trace light circles over your clit. They get faster as your breath hitches, you start to moan a little, your hips arching and Jimmy’s hands already drifting back under the sheets, seeking out his hardening cock.

You say his name at the height of climax, amidst the eruption of expletives that leave your mouth. He’s forgotten about that, that you can’t have an orgasm without saying the word fuck.

You’re going to make me come all over again, he texts back before he starts to watch the video again. It’s a few seconds later that you respond with a request.

Show me.

Love Jimmy? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[moonschocolate]

WILDFLOWERS ☆

PAIRING: loser!Theo Nott x hufflepuff!female!reader

GENRE: Fluff

WC: 4.1K

SUMMARY: Y/n gets a text late at night from Mattheo, who's asking her on a date, but is it really Mattheo who's gonna show up, or...?

It was well past midnight, when Mattheo texted y/n. “Hey wanna talk abt that potions project in front of a butterbeer, tmrw?”. Not sure if he was hitting on her, she woke her friend Leanne up. At least, she believed she was asleep. “Hey, Leanne, wake up.” she said whispering, getting close to her bed. 

Leanne just grabbed the blanket over her and threw it away, red and tired eyes glancing at y/n, phone in her hand. She was probably reading something. “Why are you whispering? I’m everything but asleep” she said as she fixed her hair, trying to get it out of her face. “Oh” y/n said, doing what seems to be thinking, and the second after throwing herself on her bed. 

“Mattheo,” she paused, looking at her waiting for a sign of Leanne, which would show that she knows who he is. She nodded. “literally just texted me, asking if I wanna go out with him to talk about a potions project, which was assigned today” Leanne looked at her, a smirk growing on her face. “THAT Mattheo asked you out?! Show me that text right now” Leanne said looking over y/n’s phone, which showed her the chat. “You think he likes me? I don’t” y/n said, anxiety rushing over her. 

Sure, Mattheo may be good-looking and charismatic, but she had her eyes laid on Theodore, one of Mattheo’s closest friends. She believed it would’ve been impossible being with him, a dream which would clearly not come true, given that she was too shy, and just being around him would make her super anxious. Theo on the other hand…was just as awkward as her. Maybe he wouldn’t feel uncomfortable, just really awkward, and would start stuttering and saying unnecessary things. Leanne knew about this, but she didn’t want to make her friend uncomfortable, since that unlucky episode which leaded y/n to go to the hospital wing. She’s still so sorry, and she doesn’t want to talk about this again.

“Are you gonna go or not?” Leanne asked, impatient. “Yes, I’m gonna go, but I want to make clear that I don’t want anything romantic with him, but if it’s just as friends then I’m cool with it.” she said, ready to take Leanne’s disapproval. “y/n” she sighed out, looking at her with her head tilted. “Of course he’s going out with you romantically. Just go and see if you’re gonna get a second date.” y/n just nodded, murmuring a yes. Then she quickly said goodnight to Leanne, and grabbed the phone which she previously threw on her bed just to answer the boy. “Yea cool!! Does 4:30 pm sound good? :)” it took no time for the boy to reply. “Sure! See you tomorrow! Gn” she smiled. “Gn! :D”

It was total chaos in the slytherin dorms. Theodore was sitting on his bed, head in his hands as he refused to talk to anyone, Mattheo proud of himself, while Draco, Lorenzo and Blaise were drunkenly cheering, alcohol in their hands, ties gone who-knows-where. 

“Boys we did it!” Mattheo cheered out loud, throwing himself on the bed. “Mate you’re gonna have such an amazing date.” “Matt I’m really not going anywhere, you’re just drunk.” Theodore replied, still in misery. 

He was really frustrated, because there is no way his best friend just set him up on a date with the most stunning girl of Hogwarts, who probably doesn’t even know him. He was so sure she would be disappointed if rather than Mattheo, he showed up instead. So he had to plan a simple excuse out, so Mattheo could go, as y/n expected. 

“Hey, the fact Matt’s drunk just means that he got the boost he needed to actually do this, ‘cause we sure as hell had this planned out a DECADE ago” said Lorenzo, who was sitting on the floor with his back on his wall, trying to defend Mattheo. “And a little boost is all you need to finally get together with that girl.” Said Draco, supporting Lorenzo. “It’s not gonna be that bad anyways, she’s just a girl, and we’re sure you’re gonna do a great impression!” Blaise said, trying to cheer Theodore up. “Remember how me and Lo got together? Just as this, Blaise planned a “date” with Lo and I showed up instead, and that’s when we finally got together!” Matt said, looking over at Lo, who leaned over the bed to give Mattheo a quick peck on the lips. 

“Yea but you were best friends who were just confused and wanted to get together, we haven’t ever talked and she probably doesn’t like me!” Theodore spit out, his expression just as emotionless as before. “Don’t be quick on making assumptions, ‘cause that’s what I exactly thought about Astoria, turns out she had been obsessing over me for a year or something” Draco said, trying to get Theodore to look on the bright side.

“Yea but can one of you come with me at least?” asked Theodore hopefully. “Hell no! We’re just gonna watch from afar, it’s a fucking date, mate” bursted out Mattheo. “Yea yea” babbled Theo. He thought ‘That was a really dumb question’. “Hey we’ll help to get you ready, don’t worry too much about it, ‘kay?” said Lorenzo in a reassuring tone. Despite their comforting words, the date was all he could think about.

“Casual? Something more tight? A cute dress?”. 

Pansy was violently looking through her friend’s wardrobe, asking her other friends what she could wear. It was 3 pm, which was way too late for the other girls, considering there was only an hour and a half left before her date. Padma, Parvati, Pansy and Leanne were hurriedly running around her room trying to find the right things: the right make-up, the right clothes, the right accessories, the right everything. 

“You have to look stunning- not that you usually don’t but- ugh you got it” she said giggling. She nodded at her best friend, with an understanding look on her face, laughing too. Although Pansy was y/n’s best friend, she had quite a bond with the other girls, too. “You can absolutely trust with your life me and Padma on the hair. After all, Indian hair care is the best one ever, everyone knows it.” Parvati declared, with Padma humming along.

“Okay so you and Parvati do the hair, I choose the outfit, so Leanne, you’re in charge of the make-up.” Pansy clarified, with a strong “say no more” from Leanne. “Listen, if I really can’t wear pants I can only wear that long skirt right there, or in general any skirt or dress that reaches further than my knee” said y/n, making clear that miniskirts were not going to be worn. 

“Y/n babe, listen I got the perfect outfit in mind. This sweater” a beige cable knit sweater, pretty short with long sleeves “with this” just a simple white shirt with a collar “with these tights, with this miniskirt, that you will wear” she said strictly “okay but I get to wear a long coat right?” asked y/n, hopefully getting a ‘yes’ in response. “If you don’t you’d freeze so…yeah I’m letting you” Pansy said, reluctantly. 

She could’ve sworn that she heard y/n hiss a yes, but it wasn’t really important. 

“And, for some accessories, these cute white leg warmers that I didn’t know you had, when were you gonna tell me? Plus these Vivienne Westwood jewelry, that I know you love. What do you think girls?” as y/n was about to speak, Pansy shut her off. “I’m asking the girls.”  

As y/n rolled her eyes smiling, the girls were all so approving of that outfit and they couldn’t wait to see y/n in it. “Now, make-up. What color do you-” y/n roughly interrupted Leanne “No color. I’ve already sacrificed a lot with the outfit, no color please. If you really want something more colorful, anything brown or bronze. Leanne don’t look at me like that NOW YOU’RE MAKING ME FEEL GUILTY-” y/n joked chuckling a bit.

After a sigh, Leanne continued “Fine”. In something like 10 minutes, the make-up was done, and it turned out so good y/n almost didn’t ever want to take it off. The dressing part was quite fast, except for the jewelry, which took a lot to be chosen, between all the necklaces, and earrings. As for the hair, after a lot of styles, which were all denied by Padma and Parvati, y/n surrendered and styled her hair the way they wanted, which included letting her hair loose; even not styling it, it looked so cute. Now she was ready, and just in time. It was 4:10pm, which gave her the time to walk to Hogsmeade. The girls all cheered her on, but y/n really felt bad, because she really didn’t want to date Mattheo, he wasn’t really her type. Always screaming, interrupting lessons, and overall he wasn’t really her thing. 

He was probably a very nice person, but…she was not romantically interested. But if he really liked her, which she believed would be very unlikely, she would feel bad for breaking his heart, and would probably cry. She wished she had Pansy’s personality, she always looks so sure about what she does… Why would she feel bad for something she doesn’t believe will happen? 

Just ten minutes before, Theodore was freaking out, while his friends were all happy and yelling. In this situation, he didn’t see anything funny, he was about to go on a date with the cutest girl of all Hogwarts, who he admired for so long from afar, never had the courage to approach her, and now without knowing even what’s her favorite color (he actually knows, it’s lilac) he’s going on a date with her?! What if she’s disappointed? She’s probably going to be disappointed. But now there was nothing he could do except dress how they wanted and just go. 

“So what pair of jeans do you want? What hoodie?” Mattheo asks, opening his wardrobe. “Are you kidding me? Hell no I’m not wearing jeans and a hoodie for a date!” Theodore said, feeling kind of attacked. “You make me so proud Theo” Blaise said while jokingly wiping a tear off his face. He was surely the most fashionable one of the group, no one ever questioned that. “Ahem, if you let me” Blaise made his way to the wardrobe, without confronting anyone he pulled out the wardrobe what needed to be worn. “First of all, blue aran sweater with a shirt under it, and some brown trousers, with a thin belt of course, and most important of all, these loafers” Blaise then turned around, proud of his choice of clothes, looking at the others. 

As they all went silent, thinking about it, Mattheo burst out laughing. “Loafers?! Are you kidding me? Fucking loafers?!” “If you knew what to wear except for the same two sweaters everyday, didn’t smell like a fucking elephant and didn’t wear those shoes just because they’re expensive and not because you like them, you’d have a say in this, but guess what! You don’t.” Blaise shrugged. 

“Okay he may not know how to dress, but-” Lorenzo stated, to which Mattheo interrupted him. “You’re supposed to defend me!” “Okay first of all, don’t interrupt me, second of all, he may not know how to dress, but he definitely doesn’t smell, and Mattheo I’m just saying that when we go on dates, I pick your clothes” “you’re not supposed to say that!” 

While everyone laughed, Mattheo wasn’t as entertained. 

“Now quit with the chatting, go change and then Draco can finally choose your cologne” Blaise threw himself on a bed, his hands intertwined behind his head, with Draco sitting on the same bed, gently placing some colognes on another bed. “Be quick!!” Lorenzo shouted from the other room, while Theo closed the door of the bathroom, sitting on the WC for some minutes, trying to clear his mind. 

It’s no problem at all, I’m just gonna go on a date with a girl that doesn’t know I’m her date and- everything is gonna go so bad. 

His moral was really down and nothing could really help, but he tried to let these thoughts go away and just change instead. It wasn’t long until he came out of the bathroom, Blaise fixing his hair a bit, while Draco, who had tested all colognes on Blaise’s arm, sprayed, finally, the cologne on Theo. “The scent of tobacco is too strong, did you just smoke?!” Theo hummed a no, smelling his clothes. They didn’t quite smell like tobacco, though. “Draco I haven’t smoked since…an hour or two ago? Maybe it’s just the bedroom” “No no it’s you pretty boy, it’s definitely you” Mattheo accused Theo, walking up to him. 

“Just abuse the hell out of this and spray the whole bottle or something” Mattheo grabbed the bottle and sprayed a lot  of it on Theo, who kept coughing uncontrollably. “Now I think you’re ready!” 

Draco though wasn’t as pleased with himself like Mattheo, who just wasted not-so-few milliliters of his dear cologne. Enzo also walked up to him, putting his hands on his shoulders. “Make her yours Theo, now go there!” “first I…wanted to um…buy her a bouquet of flowers” the last sentence was barely audible, but oh if they heard it. “AWH that’s so cute yea yea but do you know what her favorite flowers are? You can’t just go with roses you kno-” “of course I know what her favorite flowers are. WILDFLOWERS.” Theo interrupted Blaise, who looked at him shocked. “That’s impressive…but creepy too” “Yea yea now go buy those damn flowers and take her out on this damn date, we don’t need to know what flowers you get her, we need to know if she likes you or not and if you’ll be girlfriend and boyfriend” Draco harshly said, which made Theo stop and think about it. 

He was really paranoid. Luckily he was just in time to be able to buy the bouquet and be a little early too. Would she show up? He didn’t want to embarrass himself waiting for a girl who wouldn’t arrive. He shaked those thoughts out of his head and kept walking to Hogsmeade. 

While walking to The Three Broomsticks, the atmosphere was just as cute as it could be. It was the middle of October, and the colors that dominated were red, orange, yellow and brown, on the trees and on the ground. Looking around, she saw first years jumping over the crunchy leaves, with big scarves around their neck, to prevent getting a horrendous cold on this freezing day. She thought that deciding to wear tights right now could’ve been a really bad decision. 

Just as y/n was walking over The Three Broomsticks, looking for Mattheo, she spotted Theodore instead, with a bouquet of flowers who happened to be her favorite. She immediately felt a chest pain which wasn’t about to go away in a short period of time. Was he going on a date with another girl? Right now? It’s not like he fancies her, and he can’t know she likes him, quite a lot to be honest. So, obviously he has the right to go on dates. Why is this pain not leaving her alone? She tries to not think much about it (unsuccessfully) and to just wait for Mattheo, who was probably just late. 

As time went on, she saw that Theo still didn’t go in with a girl, so he was probably waiting too, until…she saw him coming towards her, really awkwardly she might add. She felt like being swallowed by the ground would be the best option right now, but unfortunately, it wasn’t an option. Just before speaking, Theo cleared his throat. 

“Um…I know you’re probably waiting for Mattheo right now but…I’m here instead” he smiled awkwardly, but after a slight look of confusion on y/n’s face he quickly corrected himself “It’s not like he’s sick or anything I’m just here because well um my friends set this as a date for me and you but they wanted it to look more mysterious so they didn’t really want you to know that…I was gonna be here” while talking, Theodore looked everywhere but to y/n’s eyes. She also noticed he had started rambling, and honestly it was really cute. 

“Oh I almost forgot- these flowers are for you…” he looked really interested in y/n’s shoes at the moment, who had captivated Theodore’s sight. Y/n could feel her ears burn, as she got the flowers he gently handed to her. “T-Thank you…” not talking for a while made her voice crack at the start, which made her get even more embarrassed. “Should we, um, get in?” Theodore started immediately fidgeting with his fingers, looking for once at her. “Yea!” they awkwardly walked in, Theodore opened the door for her, while y/n admired the flowers and how much of a gentleman Theo was. 

She noticed she has never fully admired how cozy The Three Broomsticks looks. Given that it was winter, the sun was going down earlier, so the lights were on, which gave the pub a rather warm look. The chatting noise in the background made it more lively, and while y/n was lost in admiring the lights, Theo shook her from her dreams, walking pretty slowly to a table. She ran quickly to it, sitting down, picking at her fingers. The silence between them was agonizing, because neither of them wanted to break it, waiting for the other to do so. 

Y/n decided to speak first, choosing a basic phrase that would help move things along. “So…how was your day?” a genuine smile made its way on y/n’s face, waiting patiently for an answer. “Pretty good” Theo then realized that she probably wanted to start a conversation, so he tried saying something more

“except for potions, and the fact that I got paired with Cormac McLaggen, who wouldn’t stop talking about girls, not in an admirable way I might add.” When the smile slowly vanished from y/n’s face, Theo realized he probably made her uncomfortable. 

“But um…how did your day go?” he leaned forward on the table, his forearms resting on it. “Pretty good for me too, Pansy has been talking about this date all day, helping me get ready with other girls and all…” Oh god. There was a high chance she probably messed this up. She wasn’t supposed to say this, but luckily enough Theo realized too from the look on her face, so he quickly changed the topic. “I heard you like listening to music, what music do you like?” y/n almost jumped from her seat. She definitely loves that question. Especially when she doesn’t know what the other person listens to. “Oh it really depends, I listen to literally anything! But most commonly I listen to Laufey, Lamp and TV Girl,…What about you?” Theo quickly replied. “Blaise listens to TV Girl so I do know some of their songs, but I usually listen to Frank Ocean and Mac Miller, I know quite a lot of their songs.” Y/s eyes lit up, she really found a boy who listened to that kind of music! That just made him prettier. 

Finally the time to order came, and…panic. Usually, when they were with their groups, other people ordered for them, so it had never been a problem ordering, but now…As the waiter came, they quickly ordered something, and they only managed to do it because they didn’t want to embarrass themselves in front of the other. While chatting and getting to know each other, their orders came, and they began to quietly eat.

Theo only now realized that this was the right moment. Now there was no going back, and he had to ask her to be his girlfriend. If she answered no…well, maybe it’s better asking first, and think about it later.

“Y/n mmh I…have been…admiring you for a long time and I…” y/n almost choked on her butterbeer. She quickly wiped her lips and looked at him, her heart beating too fast. She tried controlling her breath, listening to his every word with all the attention she had. 

“Well, I really wanted- well- want, to ask you if you’d…like to be my girlfriend” Theo could now run away or listen to her answer, but he was too anxious to move. Y/n’s voice cracked, so she slowly nodded “Yes- yes!” it was so surreal, none of them believed it. Theo had never been so proud of himself, he packed all that courage to be able to ask her this, and it was totally worth it. Y/n felt her ears go on fire, and she anxiously played with the hem of her beige sweater.

Wait, what did Theo have to do now? Oh. Oh. Kiss her. What if she thought he was a bad kisser? (Joke’s on you Theo, she has never kissed anyone and doesn’t know how) What if- oh fuck it- he leaned in close to her, looked at her eyes with his magnetic ones and did it. He kissed her. It was rather awkward, but this was their first kiss. Ever. 

“Now um do we go back to our dorms or…”maybe she shouldn’t have said that. She definitely shouldn’t have said that. But another time, Theo just pretended there was nothing wrong with it. “Yes, let’s go” they got up, both going to pay. 

“Oh don’t worry, this was on me.” Theo gently put his arm in front of her, as if to stop her. “But-” “I insist. Please.” Y/n then put her wallet in her pocket, smiling. “Fine.” Theo smirked back, and paid what needed to be paid. 

As they were walking back to Hogwarts, silence reigned. A comfortable one. Their hands, intertwined with one another, were warming each other. The sky was now dark, and Theo then spoke up. “Now it’s too dark to go to your dorm alone, let me escort you.” “Are you sure?” “I’ve never been more sure than now.” “I appreciate it. Thank you.” With the flowers in one of her hands, after being escorted from Theo to her dorm and kissing his cheek (which made Theo stutter all over again), she finally made it inside her dorm.

“So? How did it go with The- uhm Mattheo?” Pansy was towering in front of her, her hands on her shoulders, and she had the biggest smile, ever, waiting for a reply. The other girls were all just behind her.

“You knew?!” “Well…maybe Mattheo…Draco…or Blaise…mentioned it but uhm…” now Pansy backed up a little, trying to hold her laugh.

“Hello? We’d also like to know!” Parvati was looking expectantly at both y/n at Pansy. “Looks like it didn’t go that bad, looking at those flowers you’ve got over there” Padma took the flowers from y/n’s hand, placing them near, with the intention of putting them in a vase.

“The thing is…it wasn’t Mattheo who was waiting for me…but uh…” their expression was priceless. Pure confusion, as they waited to hear who the other man was. “Well, Theo.”

“THAT Theo!?!?” Leanne bursted out, and again, the girls’ reaction was genuinely hilarious.

“Yes, Theodore Nott.” y/n tried to hold in her laugh as much as she could, their faces were getting funnier and funnier.

“Damn y/n how did it go?!” Now they were all impatient, but they sure as hell wanted a long explanation, so they sat on the floor and on the beds, waiting for y/n to start telling the whole thing.

Some good 20 minutes passed, and she told them everything. Every little detail, from how he opened the door to make her go in first, to how always ignored her totally-out-of-place comments (to which they “scolded” her, and laughed at her). She also told them about his horrible jokes (that didn’t stop y/n from laughing a lot to them). She might’ve also cried a bit from happiness, who wouldn’t? After going out on a date with your crush, and getting literal flowers. Not only that, but they’re also your favourite kind.

“I know we asked you to tell us everything, but we need to go eat dinner too!” Leanne then got up and continued, “So maybe, we should go eat dinner, and on the way you’ll tell us everything, ok?”

They all slowly got up, and walked their way out of the dorm, to the great hall. Y/n took a moment to stop, and think. She had a boyfriend. not just any boyfriend. Theodore Nott. 

A/N: Posting this feels like some kind of liberation honestly, it's been so many months since I got that request that I'll probably never find anymore, here we are. Also, did I actually write in the fic that reader is a hufflepuff? I don't remember. Sorry for using y/n but in third pov, I can't help it. Last thing, absolutely tell me if you can find anything worth a trigger warning! I think this is the fluffiest fluff ever, so I'm not sure there may be any.

[atombombkaytee]

Glory and Gore

Summary: Upon arriving at Nuka World, Sole is a little shocked by some of the raider’s furniture. Feral Ghouls as seats!? On one particularly drunken and chem-filled evening, Hancock and Sole find themselves alone and discussing this unusual choice. Hancock sees an excellent opportunity to really wind Sole up.

Pairings: John Hancock x Sole Survivor

Warnings: Smut. Rough sex. Unprotected sex.

“It is kinda cruel, isn’t it?” I whisper, sipping from my drink. My companion glances across at the chair opposite us. A feral has been tied to the frame of the chair by his hands, feet and neck with just a thin cushion placed over his shrivelled thighs so that he takes the user’s full weight upon them sitting down. Hancock shrugs. He has a bottle of whiskey in his hand and, now and then, he takes a huge gulp.

We had arrived in Nuka World only two days ago, and, in that time, I’ve somehow managed to become the Overboss and to befriend three groups of (somewhat difficult) raiders. Tonight we’ve decided to drink with a group called The Pack. Colourful folks, with a shared passion for showmanship and wasteland creatures.

“I mean, don’t you ever wonder if they still have any remnants of their human personalities?”

We’ve managed to escape the ruckus by means of a small shack where we are finally alone (except for the feral ghoul furniture). The light in here derives from a single light bulb attached to the steel roof, it’s dim and it flickers constantly. I feel drunk - the alcohol is different here, stronger. Hancock seems half-cut too; lolling in his seat with one of his legs draped over the arm of the chair and the whiskey bottle in his hand hanging so low that it almost touches the floorboards. We’ve been drinking for at least an hour, but Hancock has been taking his regular chems since this morning - he increased his usage once the celebrations started.

“Better him than me.” He chuckles, finishing off his bottle and immediately twisting the cap off another from the table beside him. Hancock has been a ghoul for less than a decade. Sometime in 2282, his love for getting high had gotten out of hand when he tried an experimental radioactive chem. To this day, he still says the high was worth it. It’s perfectly understandable. With the world like it is today, it's irresponsible to deny yourself any form of distraction that you can get your hands on.

He flicks the bottlecap over towards the feral and it smacks him just above the eye. The creature growls and struggles in his bound position, managing to shuffle the chair forward just a few inches. I can’t help but laugh a little. My mind is hazy from alcohol and mentats, and seeing a chair move is a pretty surreal event.

“Oh, you find that funny do you?” Hancock teases, leaning forward in his seat to catch my eye, “but, what about his feelings?” He mimics my voice, flashing a brazen smile at me before taking another gulp of Whiskey.

I lean over to jokingly hit him, but he curls his free hand around my wrist before I can reach him. I feel myself being gently tugged towards him until I’m on my knees at the foot of his armchair. He looks down at me with a smile twisting on his lips.

“Am I going to have to report you to the Ghoul Protection Society for unfair treatment?” His hand slides under my chin to hold my head in place. I grin up at him, swaying slightly from the alcohol in my system. He leans down to gently kiss me. His mouth feels rough and familiar, I close my eyes and take in his scent as he lingers on my lips, his grip still firm around my jaw.

He stands the whiskey bottle on the side table and unzips his slacks. I feel warmth travel from my groin up to my throat as I shuffle forward to admire his erection. It springs up from within his pants, pink and glistening. The skin is uneven like on the rest of his body, otherwise, he’s endowed just like anyone else.

“Be a good little soft skin, make up for your crimes against my race.” He groans, throwing his head against the cushioned back of the chair, awaiting my mouth. I happily oblige, lapping up his pre-cum with the flat of my tongue, a moan hums from the back of my throat as I taste him. Sweet and salty, ghoul cum tastes better than any human I’ve had. It must be the radiation.

Unable to hold back, I swallow his whole cock, lowering my head down until my bottom lip is brushing against the material of his slacks. I hold myself there for a moment, skilfully adjusting my position until I feel his cock glide perfectly into my throat. Drool streams from my lower lip, covering his pants and settling in a puddle on the leather chair beneath him. I begin to feel my eyes well up as I cough around him, struggling for breath. Pressure on the back of my head holds me in position and the tears begin to roll down my cheeks, black with mascara. I open my jaw wider, desperately attempting for air from around his thick cock, until he finally removes his hand.

I gasp for air, and then my mouth is back on him within seconds. Drenched with thick saliva, my lips now slip up and down his length expertly. I settle on his head, now and then, to circle my tongue around it. He pulsates with pleasure inside my mouth as I explore every groove on his cock. I taste more saltiness in the back of my throat, the arousal leaking from him only makes me want to satisfy him more. My wetness begins to soak into the cotton of my underwear. I can’t help but shuffle while I work on him, trying in vain to reach some kind of release.

I hear a loud thud, the whiskey bottle slips from his grip and begins spilling out its contents on to the floorboards. He bucks his hips, enjoying my hot mouth around his prick. I let him use me as he pleases. My eyes flick up to his; black eyes watching me as he fucks my throat until I’m spluttering again. My body heaving, I run the flat of my tongue up his length playfully. Plum-coloured veins pump blood to his erection, I watch with glossy eyes as it visibly throbs beneath me.

My hand sneaks under his shirt to feel his calloused skin and he takes the opportunity to lift me on to his lap. Still fully clothed, I frantically try to remove my jeans while he slips my shirt back over my shoulder and unclips my bra. My bare chest is just inches away from his face, glistening with sweat and quivering. He admires my breasts, breathing in my the scent of damp skin like it’s a drug to him. His tongue circles around my breast before ultimately taking my nipple between his lips, while I finally manage to kick my panties off from my ankles. I cry out, suddenly realising my own level of arousal. The frigid night air stings against my bare cunt. Silvery strands leak out from my folds, coating his hard manhood like the glaze on a doughnut.

“Please, I need you inside me...” I whimper. He manoeuvres his cock so that the tip is pressed against my slit. I can still feel him pulsating, cold in comparison to the heat deep within me. I hover obediently, chewing intently at my lip.

“Please...” I repeat, meeting my gaze with his. I’m almost in tears, I ache for him.

I jolt forward; clashing my mouth against his, sloppily exploring his mouth with my tongue. At the same time, he thrusts inside me aggressively. My mind melts away to nothing, only pleasure. He fills me perfectly, every ridge on his cock stimulating me as he slides in and out. I can’t breathe. I gasp and heave against his shoulder, letting him take complete control as he bucks his hips into me over and over again. My lip, swollen from my chewing, feels heavy as it bounces along with his strokes.

The heat building in my torso is so intense, the thought crosses my mind that I may throw up. It comes out as a scream. His cock feels like it’s in my belly, my clit brushes against his shirt. Before I know it, my whole body begins to vibrate, and my cunt contracts sending shockwaves arojnd his cock. The intensity of my orgasm sends everything into overdrive, I feel every strand of hair on my body fill up with electricity, my pussy convulses, my pulse thuds dully inside my skull. The evidence of my orgasm runs down over his thick cock, coating his balls.

Feeling me cum around him flicks a switch inside his brain. Despite my orgasming body now being slumped against him like a ragdoll, he fucks me even more furiously. The room around me becomes a blur; his unrelenting strokes send me dizzy in my intoxicated state. Animal-like grunts escape from his mouth, his hot ragged breath on my ear sends goosebumps littering my skin. I can feel his heart thumping through his chest.

His huge length pulses deeper inside me, hitting my cervix with force. Exhausted and desperate, he grabs fistfuls of my hips and moves me against him, until an inhuman sound escapes from deep within him. Still bucking his hips, I feel his seed spill out inside me. It fills my belly with warmth like a shot of brandy on a freezing cold night. His whole body twitches to an abrupt halt and, suddenly, all I can hear is the sound of our wearied breathing.

I knock back his hat slightly so that I can kiss his forehead, his sweat lingers on my upper lip mixing with my own. Twisting myself in the seat, I lay lengthways over him, using the arm of the chair as a headrest and dangling my legs over the other side. His body still trembles beneath me, but he kindly extends a hand to pass me my beer and brushes the sticky hair from my face. Content, I swig from the bottle and lie my head back, absently admiring the roof of the tiny shack while his hands stroke my thighs affectionately. Against my ‘soft’ skin they feel rough, but his touch is gentle and kind.

With the world like it is today, it really would be foolish to deny yourself any form of distraction that you can get your hands on. But maybe, just maybe, this could be something more.

[trickphotography2]

'tis the damn season | Chapter 1

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Julie/Cece (OC, no physical description)

Word count: 3.8K

Synopsis: After six years away from home, Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin was finally going to make his parents happy and surprise his family by spending Christmas in Magnolia, Texas. Introducing his pregnant fiancee to his family is a culture clash, with rural Texas meeting California influencer. Though unhappy in his relationship, Jake knows he has to buckle down and do the right thing with a baby on the way.

The last person he expected to run into was his high school sweetheart and the one that got away, Julie.

The holidays are already going to be hard enough for Julie. Her home baking business, which had started as a fun side project, exploded after a few TikToks went viral. Just when she was getting the hang of juggling her job and business, tragedy struck. Facing her first Christmas as an orphan, the last thing Julie expected was to hear that once familiar nickname - Cece.

After almost a decade apart, Jake and Julie can't help but feel that old familiar spark. Even with the realities of their lives pressing in, they can't help but wonder what might have happened if just one of them had fought for their relationship all those years ago.

Master List | Ao3

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Chapter 1

“It’s so…flat,” Shayla frowned. 

“It’s Texas,” Jake shrugged, not taking his eyes off the road. A winter storm had blown through, delaying their flight and making the roads icy in the weak early morning sun. As usual, the streets further away from the city hadn’t been treated, and he’d already hit a couple of patches of ice. He only hoped that it would be better closer to home, but then again, rural Texas wasn’t exactly a priority for road treatment.

“I still don’t see why we couldn’t have gone to the Bahamas or somewhere warm,” she pouted. His grip tightened on the steering wheel, unwilling to engage in the argument that they’d had for the last few weeks. 

The engagement ring he’d bought sat on her left hand. It hadn’t been the one she wanted - he couldn’t justify spending $10K on a piece of jewelry, especially since they had a baby on the way - but still took a chunk out of his savings. Apparently, her followers had approved, even though Shayla had commented about it being the ‘starter ring.’

With a sigh, Shayla flipped down the visor and fixed her bangs before taking out her phone and checking the lighting. Apparently satisfied, she turned on the camera, starting to pose and make faces as she filmed before holding it higher and placing a hand on her stomach, ensuring her engagement ring was in the frame. “Say hi, babe,” she finally said, flipping the camera toward him. He glanced over, unable to muster a fake smile for her video. “Jake.”

“I’m concentrating,” he snapped. 

Her constant filming had been a novelty when they'd first started dating. She’d been trying to launch a career as an influencer, sharing dating experiences while doing her makeup or documenting her daily life. He didn’t exactly get the appeal, but whatever. As they got more serious, she roped him into more of the videos - at first, just glimpses of them working out together or in the car, then making dinner and going out. After he set the firm boundary that she couldn’t film nights out at the Hard Deck with the Daggers, which was an argument in itself, she refused to go. Instead, she tried to drag him to other spots. Eventually, Shayla caught the attention she was craving, and her follower list grew. With it came products that cluttered up her apartment and offers to appear at restaurants around California. 

The more her internet fame grew, the more Shayla pulled him into her videos. While drunk one night, she’d let it slip that her view rates skyrocketed when he made an appearance, and he tried not to read too much into it that she usually tried to have him half naked. Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin wasn’t shy by any stretch of the imagination and worked hard to keep his body in top physical shape. He knew he looked good, but the muscles were born from long hours working on the ranch and later maintained for his job. 

For ten months, Jake had put up with it. A two-month deployment had prolonged the inevitable, but the final nail in the coffin had been the fact that Shayla barely seemed to care that he was gone until he was back and shoved a camera in his face while sobbing about how much she missed him. Back on land, he quickly scrolled through the videos she’d posted while he was at sea only to see that she’d screen-recorded their few calls and talked about how hard it was to be a military dependent. It was satisfying to see the military spouses in the comments tearing her apart about the fact that she wasn’t a dependent until she had a marriage license. 

He’d already planned on breaking up with her as soon as he got home but felt bad about doing it when she’d already planned a couples’ costume and lined up sponsors for her video. Finding her making out with someone else in the bathroom at a Halloween party after they’d had a quickie in the truck helped bolster his case for ending the relationship.  

Jake had thought that was the end until she showed up at the Hard Deck looking for him. When he’d brushed her off, she ambushed him at his apartment the next day and demanded to speak to him, throwing a positive pregnancy test in his face when he tried to close the door.

And with that, Jake knew he had to do the right thing. He would never abandon his kid, even if it meant trying to figure out how to fall in love with his now-fiancee. 

Snow covered the fields as Jake drove under the arch, announcing they’d reached the Seresin ranch. Cows meandered, and he couldn’t help but smile at the sight of the calves with knitted ear muffs courtesy of his mother. As a kid, it had been his job to check that the calves hadn’t managed to knock them off overnight before going to school. 

Since joining the Navy, Jake hadn’t spent as much time home as he should, according to his mother. Instead of returning to Texas, he took advantage of being able to travel cheaply on the military’s dime. So far, he’d made it to England, Italy, Spain, Morocco, Japan, and Korea. He sent souvenirs home to his parents, who weren’t quite sure what to make of their youngest. 

Bill and Kerry, proud owners of the Seresin Dairy and Horse Ranch and prouder parents to Bill Junior - who constantly reminded the family that he went by Will now - and Jake, had done what they could to support their sons. Will took after his father and wanted nothing more than to take over the ranch when the time came. Jake had fallen in love with flying after going up in the neighbor’s crop duster when he was eight, and his head had never left the clouds. Whenever they went into town, Jake would beg to stop at Magnolia’s little library to get books on aviation. As he got older, he devoured the biographies of the Wright Brothers, Charles Lindberg, Amelia Earhart, and military aviators turned astronauts. 

When the time came to apply for college, he drove his beat-up truck down to Lubbock, dressed in his Sunday best to meet with his congressional representative to request a nomination to the Naval Academy. 

Two months after graduating high school, Jake’s family drove him to the airport and wished him good luck. Plebe summer took all of his attention, and he could barely think about life outside the Annapolis campus, let alone what was happening at home. Days were spent learning the proud Naval traditions, military terminology, and expectations between physical training. Nights were spent with the other plebes, trying to keep their eyes open long enough to study. His two-week break at home was spent catching up on sleep and answering questions the few times he ventured into town. 

After his Third Class summer, it was harder to come home. Summers were spent at sea or sent to different bases. His Mama pushed for him to come home for the holidays, but between the flights and drive, it wasn’t always worth it. He started to spend time with his classmates whose families lived closer. Spring Break was spent at Myrtle Beach, relaxing in the freedom away from early morning classes and strict behavioral regulations.  

Christmas was when his father put his foot down - that was for the family. Come hell or high water, he expected his sons to be home. Will had no problem with it. He’d met his wife, Allison, while studying animal science at Texas A&M. Once she finished training as a large animal veterinarian, he moved back to Magnolia. After graduating from the Academy, Jake found it harder. As a single guy, he felt terrible about taking time off from aviators with kids who wanted to spend the holiday with them. So he didn’t ask for leave and spent the holiday getting dinner at the mess and calling his family, trying to ignore the sadness and resignation in his mother’s voice. 

Which is why this trip needed to be perfect. After six years away from home, Jake Seresin would finally make his parents happy and spend Christmas in Magnolia with a pregnant fiancee by his side. He owed it to his mother after putting her through so much disappointment. 

A beat-up red truck was out in the field, moving slowly as the herd followed, and Will pitched hay off the bed. His hand curled on the steering wheel, the phantom feeling of a pitchfork and a hand on his shoulder sneaking over him. “Steady, son.” His Pop’s voice echoed the words he’d said the first time Jake had taken over the job, nearly falling backward into the hay bales when Will hit a divot. 

“So you actually, like, grew up on a farm?” Shayla asked, nose scrunching the the loud mooing. 

“I told you I grew up on a ranch.”

“I thought it was horses or something.”

“We have those too.” An SUV was parked next to his Mama’s ancient truck in front of the house. Parking behind the truck, Jake took a moment to glance at himself in the rearview mirror. For all the reasons he imagined coming back to Magnolia, this hadn’t been one of them. Scrubbing a hand through his hair, he glanced over at Shayla, who studied the house. 

From an outsider's perspective, it looked pretty impressive. His grandfather - whom Jake was named after - had built it for his grandmother after they inherited the ranch. He could remember sitting on the wrap-around porch with his grandmother, snapping green beans and shucking corn for supper, listening to stories about the cowboys that used to work on the ranch. Every other summer would find all the Seresin boys, regardless of their age, painting Granny’s house a new coat of white. The upper floor had a breezeway connecting two of the six bedrooms, which Jake had used pretty often when sneaking out of the house once they moved from the foreman quarters into the main house when Pops inherited. 

Mama had decorated for Christmas. Garland was draped over the porch banisters, and lights and red ribbon wrapped around the posts. A wreath hung on the door, and lights hung from the roof. In every window, he could see the electric candles she would go room by room lighting. Of everyone in the family, she was the biggest fan of the holiday, lovingly bullying the men in her family to embrace the cheer. 

“Damn,” Shayla said. “I’ll get some awesome Christmas footage here.” Pressing his lips into a thin line to keep any unkind words from escaping, Jake flung open his door and quickly circled the rental to help her out. 

“Watch for ice,” he cautioned. A glimpse at her phone screen showed that she was already recording. “Could you put that away?” 

“I want to catch the first time I meet your parents.”

“Shay.” Scoffing, she rolled her eyes and reluctantly stopped. “Thank you.”

“Whatever.” Gritting his teeth, he turned on his heel and walked towards the house, automatically jumping over the creaky second step. Jake hesitated a moment at the door before raising his fist and knocking twice, then twisting the knob. It turned easily in his hand, and he pushed it open. “You’re just walking in? What if they shoot you?” Choosing to ignore her, he stepped inside his childhood home.

The smell of coffee and cinnamon washed over him, and he knew the family would already be on the second pot at this time of the morning. Pops and Will would have taken most of the first with them into the barn and fields, with Mama finishing it and starting the next before her chores. After kicking off his shoes and glancing at Shay to ensure she did the same, he walked the familiar path to the kitchen. 

Family pictures decorated the walls, and he let himself really look at them for the first time in ages. His grandparents stood proudly in front of the house, his parents' wedding photo. The first time he and Will were on a horse. Will and Ally’s wedding and his graduation from the Academy. 

“Where is everyone?” Shay asked as they stepped into the large kitchen. Like much of the house, it was clearly older but lovingly maintained. The coffee pot gurgled on the counter, and Jake made a beeline for it, retrieving a mug from the cabinet above. 

“Working somewhere. You want some?”

“No. Coffee’s not good for the baby.” Nodding, he poured himself a cup and tried not to think too hard about the coffee she’d demanded before getting on the plane in California. Spotting a tray of cinnamon rolls on the stove, he quickly retrieved a plate and cut one for himself. At his raised eyebrow, Shayla scrunched her nose and shook her head. 

The roll was fluffy and soft as he bit into it, quickly followed by the rich caramel icing. He moaned, not remembering his Mama’s cinnamon rolls being this good. After polishing off his first, Jake was halfway through his second when he heard voices from the back patio. Quickly, he set the plate down and stood beside Shayla, who looked up from her phone and smirked as he ran a nervous hand through his hair.

“You’ve got some icing,” she said, brushing the corner of his mouth as the back door opened. After licking the sugar from her thumb, her hand rested on his chest before he could step back.  

“Holy Mary, Mother of God - look what the cat dragged in!” his mother exclaimed. Jake turned to greet her but froze when his gaze landed on the woman standing behind her, a basket of eggs hanging limply from her hand. Her red-rimmed eyes widened as they darted between him and Shayla.

“Mama. Cece.” 

Nine Years Ago 

When Jake pictured his life imploding, he hadn’t imagined it so… quiet. 

Cece sat beside him on the couch, gaze lowered as she fiddled with the engagement ring he’d slid onto her finger at his Academy graduation, dropping to one knee on the field and asking to be her husband before disappearing into flight school. The replacement for the class ring he’d put on her finger before he left her in Texas at 18 with a promise of forever. 

He’d naively hoped that they could push off this conversation, give it some more time to figure out how to be with one another again. To set up their home in Virginia as he navigated being a Naval Aviator and she tried to find her footing in a new town. That they could go back to how easy it was before spending the last five years apart. “Jake,” she sighed.

“Don’t.” Resignation was etched in her features when her eyes met his, and he hated it. 

“We - ”

“Please, Cece.” Her eyes closed, and she took a deep breath, lips pressing into a thin line as her chin wobbled. 

“Are you happy?” she asked after a long time. “Be honest.”

“Yeah. I’m happy you’re here. That we’re finally together. Are you?”

“I… I don’t know.” Those three little words felt like a blow to the chest, and Jake inhaled sharply. “I just… this doesn’t feel…”

“Like before.” She nodded, and he deflated. “I know.” Relief flooded her face, and her shoulders sagged as though a huge weight had been lifted. 

“I thought it was just me.” 

“No, Cupcake. Not just you.” Tears flooded her eyes, and she gave him a watery smile. “It’s only been two months. We just need some time to figure out our new normal.” 

“How much time are we supposed to give it?”

“I dunno. More than two months.” 

“Three years?” Unable to meet her gaze, his eyes dropped to watch her twist the ring. “I think we can both admit that things have been hard for a while. And that we got used to being apart from each other.” 

“We can get used to being together again.” At her silence, he reached out and caught her hand, gently tugging her across the couch. Reluctantly, Cece let herself be drawn closer and settled in his lap, knees digging into the cushions at his hips. His hands slid up her thighs to wrap around her waist. “I love you, Julie.” 

Her name on his lips sounded so foreign. To everyone else, she was Julie. She’d only been Cupcake or Cece after making Jake a birthday treat in eighth grade, carefully packaging it in her lunch box to present him at school. Always seated next to each other in class, it had been hard to avoid the Seresin boy. 

If she looked closely, Julie could still see traces of that farm boy she’d grown up with in the man she loved. There was still a mischievous glint in his green eyes and dimples that she took pride in making appear when he smiled. He was still awake at first light and a wicked tease.

But those glimpses were rare. Jake had told her that his first few years as a junior officer would be busy, but she hadn’t expected to see so little of him. She made an effort to get up with him before work and then settled in to job hunt or wedding plan while he was gone. After work, he either wanted to go to the bar with the other young pilots, or he was too tired to do more than shower, eat, and collapse into bed. Simply put, this hadn’t been the life Julie imagined while living alone in Austin for a year after graduating from the University of Texas, waiting for him to finish flight school. While her friends had moved on to careers, marriages, and grad school, she waited.

Just like she always had. 

When Jake got into the Naval Academy, he’d explained that cadets couldn’t be married. And at 18, she wasn’t ready for that commitment. So instead, he’d put his class ring on her finger and promised they would get married as soon as he graduated. For four years, she’d worn the ring on a chain around her neck and tried to push away her jealousy, watching her friends spend time with boys and having fun in the clubs. A small part of her had always felt guilty when a man had pressed against her while dancing, his hands holding her tightly and asking her to come home. Every night she went home alone, she reminded herself that four years was nothing in the face of forever. 

Their weeks together felt like stolen time - spring breaks in South Carolina, a few weeks during the summer, and Christmas in Magnolia. And just when the end was in sight, Jake came home for Christmas his last year of school and told her he’d been accepted into the pilot program. “It’s just another year and a half after graduation,” he’d explained. And when she asked where he’d be living, he couldn’t meet her eyes while explaining that he would be moving to different bases every few months, so it didn’t make sense for her to come with him. 

“Cupcake?” Jake said softly, pulling her from her thoughts. He gently ran a knuckle along her jaw, paying particular attention to the scar on her chin, earned when she slipped on a patch of black ice and fell face-first into his truck junior year of high school. They’d spent a few hours in the emergency room, his bloody shirt pressed to her face until she got stitched up. 

“If I said I wanted to get married today, what would you say?” Julie asked. Try as he might to hide it, she caught it - that brief flicker of panic in his eyes before it disappeared.

“What about the wedding?” It was his turn to catch the flash of irritation before her expression smoothed. The wedding had been a point of contention for a while - Jake knew that she wanted his input, but he’d never been interested in party planning before. 

“I said married, not the wedding. Would you marry me today?” There was a moment’s hesitation before he nodded. 

“Of course. I love you.” A sad look crossed her face before Julie cupped his cheek and gently kissed him. 

“I love you too. And I always will. But I-I don’t know if that’s enough.” Jake pulled back.

“What?” he demanded, fingers digging into her hips, hit with the irrational fear that she would run if he let her go. Her glistening eyes met his for a moment before darting away.

“I love you so much,” she said softly. “And I have since you kissed me under the mistletoe at the winter formal. But I am so, so lonely.” Tears slipped down her cheeks as her voice broke, and he felt his heart fracture. “I moved here for you, to a place where I don’t know anyone and barely see you. And I sit in this house all day and think about my life in Texas, where I missed you, but I was happy. I had a life and friends, and I could see my daddy whenever I wanted. And I missed you, but missing you has been my normal since high school. I love you, and I have put my life on hold for almost six years because I love you. And I was happy to do that so you could chase your dream. B-but…I didn’t realize that I was giving up my life and my dreams because of a promise we made when we were 18.” 

“Cece,” Jake breathed, tugging her closer as she started to sob, tears soaking his uniform's shoulder. “Tell me how to fix this.” At that, she cried harder, and he felt the numbing realization that there was nothing he could do. 

Cece lifted her head from his shoulder when her tears faded into hiccups. His green eyes were reddened when she cupped his damp cheeks. The taste of salt and sadness merged when their lips brushed. “I’m sorry,” she breathed. 

“Me too. I-I want you to be happy, baby.” 

Which was why he didn’t fight her. He helped her pack up the car a week later, forced the engagement ring she tried to return back into her hand, and kissed her one last time. And then watched as she drove out of his life. 

Then, Jake realized how hard it was to be the one left behind while the person you loved chased their dreams. 

-----------------------------------------

Author's note: Welcome to my angsty holiday fic! A major thank you to @mamachasesmayhem for letting me bounce ideas off of her for this story, and being such a lovely cheerleader ❤️

Read Chapter 2

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Taglist: @mamachasesmayhem; @buckysteveloki-me; @fanficfandomlove; @maeleeme; @djs8891; @kmc1989; @justenoughmadness

[hazbinsillynight]

Radiostatic week 2024

Day 3 : Date night

Vox asked his nemesis out out of nowhere in the middle of a fight. Confused and surprised, Alastor accepted. Only now they both had to spend a night without killing each other!

The Vee’s tower always appeared cold, calm, and threatening. The atmosphere has always terrified other demons but what they didn’t know was that inside the tower it was a different image that was given off.

It was warmer, and more welcoming, especially for the Vees who lived there and who after a long day of work only wanted to relax a bit. Sadly for them, the tower was never silent long enough for anyone to enjoy the calm and silence.

“Stop laughing dammit!!” Screamed the TV Overlord before throwing a pillow at his coworker and friend Valentino.

“I-I I can’t!!” The moth demon exclaimed, bursting into laughter, incapable of stopping.

“So Mister Vox, how does it feel to have a date with the radio demon? Your rival since always!” Velvet exclaimed, mimicking a micro with her phone, laughing as well.

“I didn’t ask him on purpose!! It came just like that. I didn't even want to ask him out!!” Vox screamed at the same time both stressed and angry. His answer only made Valentino laugh harder. “Val! I’m going to cut your fucking balls and shove them into your mouth!!”

‘Ouuuh Voxy I didn’t know you were in cannibalism kink! I’m sure Alastor’ll love that!” Velvet teased, causing Vox to glitch before his screen started showing multicolored bands and he rebooted.

“I think you broke him Vel.” The moth demon said, a bit more in control of his emotions but still laughing. 

“Come on, come on! We have to find him something to wear for the occasion or he’ll just wear his usual costume!” The social media Overlord exclaimed cheerfully, hurrying into Vox’s part of the tower.

**********

“Alastor come on, it’s just one date. What can possibly happen or go wrong?” The princess of Hell said at the door of the room of her sponsor.

“Everything! As if I was going to go on a date with that stupid TV! As if I was even going to go on a date?!”

“But you promised Vox, I know you did, I was there.”

“I don’t care.” The red demon hissed, clearly refusing to go with every fiber of his body. Just why did he say yes?!

Everything happened so fast, he didn’t even understand it and he lived this moment two hours ago! They were casually fighting against each other like usual, except that Charlie was here since she accompanied him on one of his walks. Vox attacked them and Alastor made himself a pleasure to ripost and attack back. Or at least he was until that crazy dumb and stupid TV asked him out. He was so surprised by that that he nodded and accepted his request. 

Clearly, neither he nor Vox expected this situation but with Charlie hearing everything there wasn’t any step that could be taken back. Just what was the media Overlord thinking?! They hated each other for decades! This didn’t make any sense!

“Alastor, come on! Vox didn’t deserve to be left behind. You already said yes, just imagine how miserable he would feel if you didn’t come.” Charlie tried again behind the door.

“Then he would have what he deserved! What is wrong with him asking such things!!”

“Come on Nifty helped me choose some clothes for you. You know what, how about a deal? You won’t have to take part in the next week's bonding activities if you go on that date!” The princess said, finally getting the attention of the radio demon. “What do you think?” 

“I suppose I could make an effort. But if there is anything in his behavior that’s wrong I quit.”

“Of course Al! I don’t want to force you, just to give him a chance. Oooh, I’m so excited!! this is going to be awesome Alastor you’ll see! 

*********

Vox never felt so stupid in both his life and his afterlife. Here he was dressed in the clothes Velvet and Val had chosen for him, waiting for the radio demon and ready to take him on a date. If he could just get really drunk and forget everything happened it would be perfect. But since when has his life ever been perfect dammit!?

With a look at his phone, he noticed the messages from both his friends who were encouraging him from their home. Right, he could do this! And if Alastor desisted it would be even better, right?

Speaking of the devil, the radio demon came out of the front door of the hotel. He was wearing a white shirt covered by a red velvet jacket without any sleeves. His trousers and bow were black, and Vox could see he left his radio cane in the hotel. 

“This is stupid and I hate you for asking me out.” The radio demon said before Vox could even voice a word. Good thing because he was quite mouth-gaped here. 

“Well, I hate you for saying yes so I guess we’re even Al.” The TV Overlord hissed back before taking a deep breath. “I think you’re looking great.”

There he could do this! He could survive to this date even if it was with Alastor. Or at least that was what he thought before he saw the hateful glare the deer demon was giving him. Just what did he say wrong?! No no no no! He could do this! Alastor was just playing with his nerve to prove Vox was just a horrible date. Ah! He’ll see who’s the horrible date!

“I know you like spicy food so I booked a restaurant where they serve creole cooking. I hope it is to your liking. We can change it if you want.” The media demon said with the perfect smile he performed on the stage.

Alastor looked pissed but pleased at the same time so he didn’t know if it was a victory or not. He didn’t say no so it must have been a win right? 

“I booked the whole restaurant so we should be in a nice ambiance. “ Vox said under the approbating eyes of the radio demon. 

Now Alastor won’t lie if he said he was relieved by this news. Having a public while he was going out with Vox from all people was clearly something he wanted to avoid. 

“Thank you Vox.” He said, causing the other demon to look at him in shock. Alastor rolled his eyes and they both continued their walk to the restaurant. Like Vox certified him it wasn’t far and Alastor liked to walk; they left the limousine Vox brought with him.

The two Overlords finally arrived at the restaurant and just like Vox said it was empty, the only table left was for them and the whole room was illuminated with candles. An orchestra was playing classic jazz music in the back and the ambiance of the place reminded his old home of the radio demon. He looked at everything amazed and gladly surprised to discover a place like this in hell. It felt so nostalgic…

“Do you like the place?” Vox asked a bit nervously, this wasn’t the kind of restaurant he usually goes to but for this, he tried to put himself in the place of his rival. He knew the other missed his country and home more than him.

“It’s perfect…” Alastor said, still surprised. The look in his eyes expressed everything for him. “Thank you Vox, you don’t know how much this place represents for me right now.”

Vox blushed heavily when he saw Alastor’s smile. It wasn’t the same he was used to seeing every fucking day, this one was special, kinder and it was for him. Something in his heart got warmer at this thought. 

“I’m glad you like it, Al.”

The waiter guided them to their table and Vox came to pull Alastor’s chair for him. The radio demon paused suddenly a bit more nervously, which was unusual for! He was the Radio demon, the strongest Overlord that ever walked Hell, and Vox’s rival. He wasn’t some stupid enamored guy who would blush at every action of his date! No matter how gentlemanly he could be. 

With a look at the menu surprised when he saw they served demon meat. This place was a cannibal restaurant. The radio demon looked at his rival, a bit moved by the intention. The other Overlord chose the place really well. 

Vox looked a bit nervous, more than him if he could say. Alastor held a laugh, he always found it funny that the face of the media the entire Hell was a mess when it came to dealing with him. 

“It’s perfect stupid TV so just relax. You’re so nervous I bet the entire restaurant noticed it.” He said, chuckling at his nemesis. 

“I’m not nervous!” The TV demon exclaimed blushing before adding with a calmer tone. “I just want everything to be perfect.” 

Alastor raised a helbrow suddenly interested. If Vox put so much attention on this date why did he say that he was mad he accepted his proposition? This was getting interesting. Perhaps he could play a little with his stupid TV tonight.

“It’s alright Vox.” He said with a sweet smile, gently taking the hand of the other demon. 

The reaction of the media demon didn’t take long. The TV Overlord glitched a lot and for a few seconds, there were colored bands on his screen. When he finally came back to his senses he was bushing so hard it looked like his screen had a new color. Ah, it was so funny to tease him.

Neither of them took their hands off and the conversation continued. They talked about everything and nothing, the last tantrum of Valentino, the last crazy idea of the princess, the complaints of Husker, or the new obsession of Nifty. They even talked about radio and modern technology without tearing each other apart! It was a really good evening so it was without regret that when Vox brought him back to the hotel Alastor proposed to him another date. 

“Y-yeah it would be great Al!” 

Vox was overjoyed about the news. Alastor wanted to spend more time with him! Him! That meant the date he spent so much time on had been a success. Suddenly the radio demon took his hand in his and gently kissed it, causing him to glitch a little.

“I’ll admit I wasn’t really impatient when it came to this dinner with you but in the end, I had a lovely night. Thank you Vox. I’ll see you around next time.” He said before going back into the hotel, leaving a blushing, enamored, and happy TV Overlord outside.

“I look forward to it.” He said before zapping back to his tower.

[sednonamoris]

call off the dogs (and come home to me)

Pairing: John Price x gn!reader

Summary: You've quietly yearned after Captain John Price for a long time now, and known him even longer. With each stolen glance and interrupted moment the tension between you grows, but everything comes to a head when a mission gone wrong forces you to confront feelings that have gone unspoken for the better part of a decade.

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, strong language, alcohol mention, drunk hookup, a little bit of torture + murder, fingering, porn with plot (smut should read gender neutral but let me know if any changes will make it more inclusive!!), mild angst, mutual pining with a happy ending

Word count: 3,940

A/N: My first foray into smut inspired by the incredibly talented @yeyinde!! Expect more Hound/Price content in the future bc I’m obsessed lol

--

 “Hound,” a familiar voice startles you from the mountain of paperwork on your desk, “what are you still doing here?”

 You raise a challenging brow at your captain. “Couldn’t I ask you the same thing?”

 This exchange has become familiar in the months you’ve spent grounded. Anyone else would take a bullet to the knee as a chance to slow down - switch careers entirely if they were smart - but you’re stubborn. A dog with a bone. Two surgeries and months of rehab that still aren’t finished, frankly you’re lucky to be walking. Luckier still that they let you stay on with the 141; There was a minute there that Laswell threatened you with an honourable discharge. A timely intervention with the physical therapist got you out of it, the only stipulation being that you remain firmly planted behind a desk until the doctors clear you. Having spent the better part of a lifetime hands-on in the field, it’s been hard not to overextend to prove your worth off of it.

 So after-hours paperwork it is. At least the company is good.

 “Touché,” Price huffs a laugh through his whiskers. “Fancy a cuppa? Sounds like we’ll both be here a while yet.”

 “Have I told you lately you’re my favourite? Two sugars and--”

 “--a splash of cream,” he finishes for you. The twinkle in his eye warms you right through, and you smile after him a little bit like an idiot.

 It’s been like this ever since the domestic terrorism scare your team was called in on in Belfast what feels like a lifetime ago. He was only a lieutenant then, and you a sergeant. You were assigned to civilian extraction, but took off when you saw one of the primary suspects make a dash for it through side streets. Price saw you go for him and followed, the two of you giving chase on foot for three blocks before you managed to dive-tackle him in a back alley. It was a major success to take him alive, but your captain at the time wanted blood for the abandoned civilians. Price stood up for you in front of the entire regiment.

Took after ‘im like a bloody hellhound! he’d said. That deserves a medal, not disciplinary action.  

 Just over ten years later you’re still called Hound, and he’s still the subject of your silly, unattainable daydreams. Captain John Price is a name that means something, but to you he will always be the sergeant with fire in his eyes who stood up for you when no one else would. When he asked if you were interested in joining the 141 at its inception you didn’t even hesitate. You’d follow him anywhere.

 “One tea, two sugars, splash of cream,” Price announces when he returns from the kitchenette with two steaming mugs to distract you from your thoughts. Yours is placed ceremoniously on an ARW coaster you ‘borrowed’ from your last commanding officer. “Now I believe you owe me something…?”

 You grin and pull out your secret stash. The false bottom of the drawer is probably meant for sensitive intel, but you’ve found it’s perfect for biscuits. Three are placed in his outstretched hand, and three next to your mug.

 “You’re lucky I’ve got a man on the inside who sends me these,” you scold as he scoffs one down almost immediately.

 “Yeah, tell your granddad I said ‘thanks’.”

 “I can’t. He’d disown me if he knew I was feeding a Brit.”

 That earns you a laugh - a true belly laugh - and you can’t help but feel entirely smug about it.

 “Fuckin’ Paddies.”

 “Ah, go fuck yourself.”

 A companionable silence blankets the room after that, broken only by the sound of shuffled papers and laptop keys. Soft lamplight illuminates your reports so unlike the harsh fluorescents everywhere else on base. You’ve done your best to make the regulation desk homey; bright sticky notes and colored pens and a picture of you and the lads after a successful mission. Occasional hums and huffs and heavy sighs from your captain’s desk across the room breathe life into the space as well. You like to think your incoherent, foul-mouthed muttering does the same for him.

 The clock reads 0100 hours when you look up again. The caffeine from the tea wore off over an hour ago and you can feel yourself starting to fade. A quick peek over at Price reveals much the same.

 You open your mouth to ask if he’s ready to tuck in when he looks up and steals the breath from your lungs. His short hair is mussed where he’s been running his hands through it, that hint of premature grey turned silver at his temples in the low light. Tired eyes crinkle fondly behind the lenses of reading glasses you haven’t stopped teasing him over but can’t get enough of. It’s achingly domestic. A glimpse into a future you’ll never have - not with anyone, and certainly not with him.

 “What are you thinking about over there?” he asks softly.

 “Nothing,” you flash a tired and unconvincing smile. “I’m knackered. Shall I close up shop or will you, Cap?”

 “I’ve got it, you get some shut-eye.”

 Your eyes linger just a bit too long as you bid him goodnight, knowing very well you won’t sleep a wink.

--

 This pub is definitely one of the shittier ones, but its location is convenient enough to pretend that the wallpaper isn’t peeling and the live band of part-time musicians and full-time retirees is any good. The handful of covers they play are indistinguishable from originals sprinkled in, all with that same, washed-out sound of empty bottles and stale dreams.

 The group of hooligans crowded up at the bar sit in stark contrast of the otherwise dour patrons. Even Ghost, who’s taken the corner seat and keeps a lazy watch over the room, is loose enough to be making those terrible jokes of his. Soap and Gaz lean over one another with goofy grins and half-empty glasses before them. Price, true to form, has taken the end seat to nurse a ‘proper pint’ alongside a lit cigar the bartender can’t dispute after lighting up what looks like at least his tenth cigarette of the night behind the bar.  

 “If it isn’t the Bionic Hound!” Gaz calls when he spots you across the poorly-lit room, waving you over with a grin.

 You shake your head, wondering why you agreed to come out tonight. But the second Gaz had started with the puppy-dog eyes there was no denying him. Drinks before leave are a 141 tradition, he’d insisted.

 So here you are.

 “You’re lucky it’s a metal knee and not laser eyes or you’d be in yesterday’s papers,” you wag a finger at him as you take your seat amongst them all.

 Ghost snorts a laugh at the empty threat.

 “Oh, come off it, Hound,” Soap says. “You love us too much.”

 Price chuckles. “I wouldn’t count on that.”

 You glare and wrinkle your nose at the comment, but he just smiles back at you with that damned twinkle in his eye. Prick. Then he wordlessly slides over your usual and you have to be grateful on top of it all. Double prick. One swift gulp and half of it is gone; you’re too sober for this.

 The lads cackle over another awful joke - Soap’s, this time. Price holds his temples.

 The drinks go down easy after that.

 “Any exciting plans for your leave, Cap?” you ask. It’s almost closing time now. This place is never full, anyway, but there’s enough alcohol in your system that you almost buy into the pretense of hearing him better as you edge further and further into his space.

 You’re not sure what you want him to say, exactly. Maybe if he reveals that there’s a cute little family or some stunning girlfriend waiting back home you’ll finally be able to move past the strangled feeling in your throat every time you look at him.  

 “Hardly,” he says around the cigar. The soft glow of it lights his face, makes him look like some sharp-eyed noir detective shrouded in smoke and mystery. “Might get a bit of fishing in, head into Liverpool and catch a game or two. What about you?”

 You wave a dismissive hand. “I make a terrible civilian. After I visit my grandfather and annoy him half to death I’m not sure what I’ll do. Maybe finally get some use out of those Egyptian cotton sheets I spent a bleedin’ fortune on.”

 “Are they nice?” he laughs, leans closer.

 You hum an affirmative, dizzy at the little space between you. He smells like tobacco and wood, whiskey and gunpowder.

“Too nice.” You should stop talking now. “End up on the floor half the time, anyway.”

He doesn’t need to know that.  

 “Sleeping alone, then?”

 His breath fans your face. Yours gets quicker, and you swear you’re more drunk off this shared air than any liquor you’ve had tonight.  

 “Sometimes.” You wet your lips. “Usually.”

 Your lashes leave tender butterfly kisses on your cheekbones as you meet his blue-eyed stare that’s gone impossibly dark, dipping down to see where your lips have parted - breathless, waiting. Wanting. His hand reaches out--

 “Last call!” the bartender’s shout snaps everything back to reality.

 You jump away from one another as though you’ve been burned. It feels a lot like you have.

 Price clears his throat, mutters something about getting back. His voice is rougher than usual. Raw. You look everywhere but him as he proceeds to round up the rest of the lads before you all stumble back to base.

 Your head pounds the whole way back to Ireland the next morning, marching drums in your mind and sandpaper beneath your eyelids. The flight has never felt lonelier.

--

 The man you bring home has blue eyes and brown hair. He’s not tall enough, certainly not broad enough, but he happened to be in the right place at the right time as you drank your sorrows away in some tiny pub up the road from your flat, and you happen to be desperate enough not to care.

 At least that’s what you tell yourself as you back him against your bed.

 When you kiss him it’s relentless and controlling. Mean. You suck a dark bruise on his neck and climb in his lap before he can think to return the favor.

 “Fuck, sweetness,” he groans at the sweet feeling of friction between your bodies. The accent is wrong. So is the endearment.

 You clamp a hand over his mouth. “Shut up and fuck me.”

 It’s a quick and sloppy affair, chasing a half-drunk high like a pair of horny teenagers. When all is said and done, you stare up at the ceiling on too-soft sheets and tell him he can go. He leans over to catch your eye briefly, maybe checking to see if you’re serious. You are. There’s hurt written across his expression - a bit of shock, too - but all you can think about is how his eyes are the wrong shade of blue.

--

 The second the doctors clear you for active duty you all but sprint to Price’s desk, demanding he get you back in the field as soon as possible. He smiles up at you in that sharp way that always makes your heart stutter and promises he’s got something small in the works - perfect to shake the rust off.

 Of course he’d think of an unsanctioned, off-the-books capture of a Russian mobster as small. You’re the only two who make the trip; your Russian is miles better than anyone else’s, and more bodies will only attract attention.

 It’s easy to forget how beautiful Moscow is. You don’t come here often, but the sprawling cityscape and romantic spires speak to your soul, set something singing inside you. You try to hold on to that feeling as you and Price make your way into the chipped paint and piss-stained sector of the city. These winding side streets and twisted back alleys are far more fitting for your line of work.

 Your mark, one Mikhail Yanovich, is a low-level enforcer for a high-interest gang that has connections to Makarov. Allegedly. That’s why you’re planning this friendly little chat. Not so much catch-and-release as catch-and-stage-a-believable-accident; if he really is involved, you can’t afford for Makarov to know you’re onto him.

 It feels strange to walk around in civvies with only a thin kevlar vest underneath to protect you. Thank goodness for the cold that makes layering less conspicuous. You look every inch the lost, frozen tourist. Price does too. You don’t think the miserable face he’s pulling beneath the beanie is acting, cheeks and nose flushed raw as they are.

 “Bloody cold out,” he mutters.

 “The fuck did you expect, tropical holidays?”

 He glowers, and you shake your head to hide a smile.

 Thankfully, kidnapping Yanovich is quick work; two bickering tourists hardly seem like the type who will stick you with a needle on your way to work and drag your unconscious body to a stashed van, driving through bad, then worse neighborhoods to reach a secure location to interrogate you.

 He wakes tied to a chair in the basement of an abandoned parking garage you and Price have taken up a temporary residence in. The captain circles him like a vulture, taking in all the details a broad frame and blockish features have to offer. You sit perched on the edge of a shitty folding table set just in the shadows. Patient. Waiting. There’s a case of freshly sharpened knives beside you - the Hound’s fangs, as Ghost likes to call them. So often the glinting threat of harsh light on metal is all it takes to break a man.

 “What can you tell us about Makarov?” Price opens.

 “Go fuck yourself.”

 The blow lands harsh on Yanovich’s cheekbone. Instantly a bruise begins to form, splotchy and plum on pale skin.

 “I asked you a bloody question. I promise you’d rather answer me than Hound over there,” Price looms over him, growls in his ear. “Makarov. Tell me everything you know.”

 There’s a stubborn set to his jaw when he says, “I know nothing.”

 If he really knew nothing he either would have laughed in your face or led with open ignorance. The way he clings to resistance can only mean there’s something to resist telling. As to how much he knows? There’s another echoing crack as Price backhands him.

 You’ll soon find out.

 “Hound,” your name on your captain’s tongue is as much a command as an invitation.

 You lean forward, step into the light. Twirl one of your knives expertly between scarred fingers. Watch it flash in the whites of his eyes.

 “I’ll ask you again: Where is Makarov?” Price demands.

 “I. Don’t. Know.”

 You step between Yanovich’s legs, lean over him and gently trace your blade over his groin with a smile sharper than the knife. He lets out a harsh breath.

 “I said I don’t know. Boss tells me nothing - I’m just a guard.”

 The knife presses, insistent. Not quite hard enough to draw blood yet. A bead of sweat rolls down Yanovich’s forehead. He’s pressed himself as far back into the chair as his bonds will allow.

 “Fine! He comes to club once a month. Speaks to the boss.”

 “What about?”

 “I don’t know-- I swear!” his accent is thick with unfamiliar syllables and fear.

 “When’s he due next?”

 “You just missed him. He always comes last day of month.”

 “Location?”

 “Changes every time,” he says, licks his lips. “I told you all I know - call off your fucking dog!”

 You dig your knife in for good measure just to watch the hate and fear in his eyes before backing off at Price’s nod.

 Turning to step away and table your knife, you don’t miss the way Yanovich mutters darkly after you, “My zdes strelaem vie brodyachikh sobak, suki. Esli ya uviju tebya snova, the mertview.”

 Then a gunshot fires.

 You pull your weapon out of its holster and whip around to cover Price, only to find the smoking gun in his hand and Yanovich’s head splattered on the wall behind him. Captain John Price stands over the body, eyes blazing, chest heaving, gun still aimed. Blood and brain matter speckles his face and clothes.  

 “What the fuck was that?” you demand. “He could have told us more! And what about the cover-up? Blowing his brains six ways to fucking Sunday isn’t exactly a bleedin’ accident!”

 You expect some kind of remorse when he turns to face you, but there’s only a grim, deadly acceptance. “He said--"

 “I heard what he said, I can speak bloody Russian!” you stalk towards him and jab a finger into his chest. “We were gonna kill the cunt anyway. You should have waited.”

 Price snarls, lip curling to bare his teeth. “You didn’t see the way he looked at you.”

 Suddenly you’re hyperaware of how close the two of you are standing. “How did he look at me?”

“He wanted to kill you the slowest way he knew how,” he says, like he’s confessing a sin, “and I’d shoot his fucking face a thousand times over to make sure he never looks at you again.”

 And just like that anything you were going to say dies in your throat, comes out a pathetic whimper. He grabs a fistful of your shirt and hauls you the rest of the short distance to him.

 “Tell me you wouldn’t do the same,” he demands. “Tell me to stop.”

 His hand burns on your chest, an iron-hot brand of possession.

 “John,” you breathe, because you don’t know what else to say. The look in his eyes is magnetic, drawing you in further still with pupils blown wide with want. “Don’t stop.”

 He kisses you rough, teeth and tongue and a certain kind of desperation brought on by the still-warm corpse lying just a few feet away. When you break for air he wastes no time kissing down your neck, every inch of exposed skin branded by his lips and the rough scrape of his beard. Yanovich’s blood smears down the column of your throat.

 “Fuck, John,” you say, “just like that.”

 “Sound so fucking perfect when you say my name,” he growls and bites down on your pulse point, leaving you gasping.

 It’s enough to distract you from his true purpose, large hands cupping beneath your ass and scooping you up into his arms. You hold on tight as three purposeful strides take you across the room to the table. One sweep of his arm has everything tumbling off it before he sets you down to stare up at him with wide eyes and a kiss-swollen mouth.

 When he captures your lips again it’s searing, molten heat rushing through your veins. It pools in your stomach, that too-hot wanting, and it suddenly hits you how much you do want this. Him. Each kiss tastes like so many years of silent longing, of standing too close and staring too long and wanting too much. All suddenly real and within reach.

 You let your hands snake up his shirt, explore the broad plane of his chest and the wiry hair that curls over it. Your fingers run over scars like braille that tell stories of violence and valor. Some of these stories you helped write. There, beneath his ribs, where you had to stitch him up in the field to keep his guts from spilling into the streets of Vienna. The lump where his collarbone never healed right after taking the brunt of a nasty blow meant for you. He shivers under your touch. Then his large, calloused hands cover yours and stop them in their tracks.

 “I’m going to fuck you now,” he says, “because I don’t think I can wait any longer than I already have to feel you.” His voice is even lower and rougher than usual, accent thick with arousal. “Do you want that?”

 You nod, afraid to speak and break the spell.

 “Come on, soldier, use your words.”

 “Yes, Captain. Please.”

 His grip on your hips tightens and he lets out a growl. “That’s my perfect soldier.”

 It’s all the warning you get before he tucks his fingers under the waistband of your trousers and underwear and tugs them down to your thighs, leaving you exposed before him.

 “Fuck, just look at you,” he says under his breath, almost like you aren’t meant to hear.

 You squirm under the scrutiny. A hot flush creeps up your neck as he stares, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t like it. He looks at you like you’re some kind of revelation, like he’s been denied salvation all his life only to find it at the apex of your thighs.

 One, two, then three fingers stretch you open for him quick and dirty. It’s too much too fast but you want it so bad, and the pleasure far outweighs any pain. When he finally unzips his trousers to free his already hard, leaking cock you think you drool a little bit. You knew he’d be big, the way he carries himself, but seeing it is something else. Your insides flutter at the thought of the tight fit. He lines up to your entrance with that same military precision you’ve always admired before pushing in slowly, slowly, slower still. When he bottoms out he does it with a deep groan, your fingernails raking down his back as you keen at the sensation. This small mercy, just a few moments to adjust with his forehead pressed to yours, is all you’re granted before he sets a brutal pace. The obscene slap of skin on skin echoes off cracked concrete. With each thrust he hits someplace deep inside you no one else has managed to find.

 Heat coils in your belly, closer and closer to fever pitch with each expert snap of his hips.

 “John,” you pant, “m’gonna… gonna cum. Feels so good.”

 He says your name like a prayer. “Cum for me, then. Want to see you make a mess of yourself on my cock.”

 Like a tidal wave breaking against a dam you cum fast and hard at his words with a broken sob. He fucks you through the high, brushing a tear from the corner of your eye with a rough thumb.

 “There you are, so good for me,” he says. “Gonna cum all over your pretty little self, make you mine.”

 “I’m yours, John,” you gasp, “all yours.”

 His thrusts turn sloppy chasing his own high, and it doesn’t take long before he pulls out and makes good on his words, covering your stomach in spend as he grinds out your name. Bent over your body, he presses a chaste kiss to the juncture of your neck before pulling back to admire his handiwork. In the afterglow you lay spread out on the table with a sheen of sweat, smeared with his cum and another man’s blood. The way his eyes darken rubbing it into your skin, and the way you shiver at the sensation, you think that you both might like it a little too much.

 “Laswell’s gonna kill us for this,” he murmurs.

 You hum your agreement. “So where shall we hide the body?”

 His eyes shine down on you with adoration and crinkle with wicked humor. “I’m sure we’ll think of something, but let’s be quick about it. The sooner we get home the better.”

 “Yes,” you hear yourself agreeing, “home.”  

 For you, it will always be at his side.

[gold-rhine]

What else the gods are for

Continuation of Chapter 1, doesn't make sense without it

Genre: angst, misinformation campaign and religious homoeroticsm of nonbeliever interacting with god of alien species

Characters: Neuvillette\Wriothesley

Warnings: sfw in a sense that nothing explicitly sexy happens, but there is dissociation, ptsd episode, mentions of self-harm and implied suicidal ideation.

Chapters: 2 out of ?. Wordcount: ~7k

The Palais was quiet and almost empty at this night hour, all bureaucrats long gone save for a single intern with bleak eyes at the table covered in papers. Wriothesley made sure to catch his line of sight and nod, he needed witnesses who could testify to him being here. 

He slowed pace before the doors of Neuvillette’s office, but before he could knock, a melusine materialized in front of him, blocking the way.

“Hello! Please state your business.”

Sedene was bright blue and still somehow he didn’t see her coming. And she was not a veteran fatui agent. She was a receptionist. How melusines could have the most obnoxious colorings, and still be able to sneak up on anyone better than assassins with decades of training was beyond him. 

“I’m here to see the Chief Justice.”

She frowned.

“The office hours are over. I can schedule you an appointment in the next two days.”

Normally he would never antagonize a melusine, let alone Neuvillette’s secretary, but tonight his own future stopped mattering. 

“I’m the Duke of Meropide,” pulling the rank was technically not the low blow, but it was certainly not the most graceful move.  

She held his gaze without flinching, hands on hips.

“I’m aware. This is why I’m offering an appointment in the next two days, and not months.”

Well, time for actually dirty moves.

“Sigewinne said to pass her greetings.”

Sedene sighed, gave him reproachful glare, but turned and knocked on the door. 

“Yes?” Neuvillette’s surprised voice asked. Sedene slid inside and closed the door without giving  Wriothesley a chance to follow, but he was close enough to hear the conversation.

“Sedene? I told you to leave for today hours ago.”

“Well, apparently it’s good that I didn’t. You have a visitor, Monsieur.”

“At this time? Is there an emergency?”

“Doesn’t seem so. It’s just the Duke. Shall I schedule him an appointment for tomorrow’s afternoon?”

Despite the inconvenience, he couldn’t help but respect her dedication. 

“He must have an important reason for a visit at such an hour. Let him in.”

“As you wish, Monsieur,” she relented with a sigh.

The door barely moved as she materialized before  Wriothesley, looking displeased.

“He will see you now.”

He took a deep breath and walked in, plastering a practiced smile over his face.

“Monsieur, apologies for such a late…”

Neuvillette caught his eyes and his expression changed from mild surprise to an alarmed frown. He rose from his seat sharply and for a moment Wriothesley thought he was done for.

“Wriothesley? You are in pain, what happened? Were you attacked?”

“Ah, no, it’s nothing. I’m fine. Cut up my palm a bit by accident, that’s all,” he waved his conveniently sliced up hand, which he took time to bandage beforehand to stop the bleeding. His usual black bandages were especially good for this, because even if blood went through, it wouldn’t be visible. 

Neuvillette didn’t look too convinced.

“You are also… poisoned?”

“Drunk,” Wriothesley clarified. 

“Ah. I see.”

It was good that Iudex brought this up himself. Surely he must know humans are prone to spontaneous and stupid decisions when drunk, a lot of crimes are committed while intoxicated. This should give Wriothesley a sizable leeway in how unusual he acted.

“What is… the purpose of your visit?”

“I think it was quite rude of you to leave like that today, wasn’t it?” he was still keeping up a lopsided grin, slowly walking forward. “I know my company must be horribly drab in comparison to the fancy balls of the *real* nobility you’re used to, but even so.”

“It’s not the reason why I’d le…”

“After so many years of snubbing my invitations to offer a visit yourself and then leave so abruptly is a grave offense even for you, Monsieur.”

He cut Neuvillette off, for the first time in all these years. Years of trying to subtly encourage something more than just polite formalities, of cherishing every time the strict posture was even slightly dropped, every random tangent Iudex would slip into and then profusely apologize, until there were less and less of apologies and more and more of actual talking. He knew it was the night to burn every bridge, but still it felt like tearing out a fragile tree sapling he spent years raising just when it only started to bloom. 

“Cruel to toy with me like that, don’t you think? I trusted you and I didn’t trust anyone since my trial.”

He really *was* drunk, huh. He let the edge of real bitterness slip into his voice. Still, even this could be used, the glimpse of sincerity could sell everything else better.

“My apologies. It was unacceptably rude of me. Perhaps if we could arrange another date…”

“No, my honor demands immediate satisfaction,” he slipped into a mock posh speech pattern. “But don’t worry, I won’t subject you to the tea that so displeased you. The famous water tasting by Iudex will assuage my pride.”

Neuvillette studied him with an incredulous look, head tilted slightly in what now seemed distinctly inhuman manner. Long silver thread of hair swayed, showing more of the blue underside, the same thread Wriothesley wanted to catch between his fingers for so long.

“Well, water should be good for you in this state.”

Neuvillette looked unconvinced, but clearly decided that trying to talk to him rationally was useless right now. He clicked his fingers to summon two silver encrusted with gems goblets to the table. He started to move away from the table, but hesitated and turned to look Wriothesley in the eyes, his own looking so straightforward, clear translucent lilacs and blues and sharp whiteness.

“Are you absolutely sure you’re fine? I can’t help but notice you have a new streak of gray in your hair.”

It was a knife under the ribs, so sharp it took a moment for the pain to even register. By all the gods, human or dragon, why would he even fucking notice. 

For a long, torturous moment he wanted to let it go. He still could have dropped it, in personal matters Neuvillette was lenient to the point of indulgence, he would let this weirdness slide. It would be so easy to let himself drown in these eyes, turn this into a joke, arrange another tea tasting, smooth it over. And the worst part was that deep down, horribly, he knew that if it was only archon blood, he could’ve let it go. Between the god who’s never answered his prayers even when he was still trying to pray and the one who did, it was not much of a stretch. But… “foe of humanity”, Fontaine thrown into war against the heavens… Even if he personally was kept safe, he couldn’t ignore it. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he lied and stretched his lips into a smile. Not his best work, but should be enough for a non-human who had trouble reading human expressions. That dagger under his ribs felt so real that subconsciously, he smiled with closed lips to not show blood that surely must have been on his teeth. That was not the wound you could hope to survive. 

Neuvillette studied him for a moment longer, hesitant, but eventually turned and walked to the wall cabinet. Wriothesley slipped the vial out of his jacket’s inner pocket and stepped up to the goblets on the table. The poison had no color or smell, and, allegedly, required a mere drop to take effect, so it should be able to go unnoticed in the silvery shadows of the cup.

“Waters of Mondstadt’s Springvale are notable for their crisp and focusing clarity of…” Neuvillette was walking back with a crystal decanter, but stopped abruptly a step away, looking at the goblets. 

“Great, focusing clarity is exactly what I need right now,” Wriothesley struggled to keep his lopsided, shattered grin on as Neuvillette silently looked at him. He closed his fist, nails digging into a sliced up palm. Iudex knew, somehow he could tell, it was over.

Still without a word, Neuvillette closed the rest of the distance to the table and filled goblets with water from the decanter. Wriothesley immediately picked up his cup and downed it in one gulp.

Neuvillette watched him with a frown. Wriothesley didn’t have it in him to bullshit anymore, each word twisting the knife under his own ribs, and the silence stretched, only raindrops beating against the window in a frantic heartbeat. 

________

Neuvillette watched Wriothesley drink, too quickly, like it was life saving. It didn’t make sense. He could sense the stench of poison in both cups. Why would he poison his own cup and then drink it so, not even waiting for the Iudex?

Wriothesley kept smiling, though the pain emanating from him was more suitable for a lethal wound and not a cut hand. Humans made absolutely no sense. Just as the dragon started to think he was getting some understanding, just as he thought there was a human he could find trustworthy after hundreds of years among them… He couldn’t help, but think of Vautrin. A human he trusted, a human he thought he knew... Who turned on him so drastically. But betrayal he could understand, no matter how it pained him. And yet hundreds of years later to learn it was not a betrayal, but a pretense devised by Vautrin to benefit the Iudex… That he was loyal to Neuvillette in the prison the dragon sentenced him to, without ever saying a word to him, leaving him to be eaten by sorrow for all this time?

He didn’t want to live another half a thousand years in doubt, relying on blind luck to finally learn some truth. He needed answers, now. 

He circled around the table and closed the distance with the Duke in a couple of steps. Wriothesley took an instinctive step back and drew a breath through his teeth, unfitting smile finally dropping, his fists clenching with icy aura wisping over his fingers.

It wouldn’t matter. A simple vision was no match against a Sovereign.

Neuvillette raised his hand and could sense Wriothesley’s quickened heartbeat, yet he didn’t step back again.

But the Iudex knew humans were pathologically incapable of communicating openly, even for the most mundane topics. They are offended if you don’t say “Greetings” and “How are you?”, even if they never intended to tell you the truth of it. But you need to make ritualistic steps to let them do their own “Hello, thank you, I’m fine, and you?”, so you could tell them “I’m very well, thank you,” because they don’t expect sincerity for the question either. No, they abhor sincerity. But if the dance steps are taken correctly, no matter how nonsensical, then you might hope to have some meaningful communication after. 

If you didn’t do the rituals humans wanted, they would simply refuse to tell you anything of the matter. He could crush the Warden in one move, but it would not bring him answers he desired. Whatever this ridiculous game was, he needed to pretend to play, at least for a time.

And so, still keeping his gaze on the determined, infuriatingly stubborn grey-blue eyes, still standing right against him, Neuvillette picked up the remaining goblet and drank out of it.

“Will you now explain the meaning of this or do you plan on dragging on this farce?” he said after, placing the goblet down on the table. He couldn’t help but sound resentful.

Wriothesley took a deep breath.

“Yeah, so, the poison I put into our drinks has an antidote. I’ve hidden it in a safe place, which I can reach within ten minutes. Otherwise the poison will start working after half an hour. Answer my questions, and if you explain yourself, I will get the antidote.”

He took a conch out of his pocket and placed it on the table, and the conch suddenly made a sound.

“Now that I have reclaimed one of the Seven Authorities from the hands of the usurpers, I have regained my true form. I am now a fully fledged dragon, powerful enough to judge the rest of the gods. My final destiny is to judge the Usurper-King in the heavens above.”

“Are these your words?” Wriothesley asked quietly when the recording stopped.

“Yes”, Neuvillette said after a pause, because they were. He watched the light flicker and die in the human’s eyes, the way he only ever saw at the moment of the especially harsh trial sentence. 

“Wow,” the Duke said hoarsely and chuckled, though even the dragon could tell it was utterly humorless. “You’re just going to admit it like that, huh.”

“I do not lie.”

“Ha! So direct lying is the line you decided to draw? Turning oceans upside down and lies by omission are fine?”

“Lies by omission? I do not owe humans disclosure of my personal identity,” Neuvillette titled his head, examining the Duke, incensed at the audacity. “What do you think you even know? Humans are not of Teyvat. This land belonged to the dragons, the elements of it were attuned to us. We are the blood and flesh of this world. Foreign invaders came and waged war on us, destroyed the natural order of the world, re-shaped the land itself to suit themselves. *They* brought you here, to take the place they carved from *us*.”

 Wriothesley drew in a sharp breath, clearly taken aback, looking away for a moment, but then he raised his eyes again, still stubborn.

“So you’re waging the war back?”

“You expect me to forget how the usurpers wiped out most of my people and killed me? How they stole a part of me and gave it to their own false god of life?” He was aware that his eyes started glowing, an outward sign of power accumulating, but he didn’t care to hide it now. “Yes, I will wage war on them. Some debts could only be paid in blood. I’d thought you of all humans would understand that.”

“I’ve never harmed an innocent,”  Wriothesley spit out. “Or do humans not count as such? What are we to you? Invasive pests?”

For the first time, the Iudex averted his gaze.

“At first, yes,” he said finally. “Or maybe more accurately… pets of my enemy. But even while it was my primary understanding, I did not let it affect my judgment as Chief Justice. You cannot accuse me of breaking my word.” 

Wriothesley took another step forward, the closest they’ve ever been, the closest any human dared to approach him.

“Breaking your word is the last fucking thing I’d care about, with everything you’ve done to us! With what…”

“Silence,” Neuvillette struck his cane in between them. Wriothesley visibly choked on a word, anger and hurt emanating from him in heated waves, but he kept silent as the Iudex continued.“If you have accusations, state them. I will not tolerate baseless insults.”

Wriothesley looked away, took a deep breath and then met his eyes squarely.

“You’ve plotted to destroy Focalors and took over Fontaine to use in a war against heavens.”

It took Neuvillette a second to process this, and then he couldn’t help but laugh at how ridiculous it was.

“No, I did not. Preposterous!” How could anyone believe this was incomprehensible, clearly a flimsy excuse for the conspiracy Wriothesley himself told him before.

“Oh, that’s funny to you? That’s all you have to say?”

“Of course. What would a word of… what was it?” Neuvillette narrowed his eyes, and stretched his lips in a grin that showed the fangs he spent so many centuries hiding. “Ah, “evil monster”, mean to you?”

To his surprise, Wriothesley didn’t flinch, didn’t falter, his eyes steady, resolute.

“No, don’t try this. I was… I could tell you were not human for a long time. I would’ve stood by you, water spirit, dragon or a fucking demon from the depths of the Abyss.”

Despite the icy wisps around his hands, his emotions burned white-hot bright, angry and sincere. He seemed to really believe this, and yet, he still felt betrayed by the Iudex. Neuvillette paused, thrown aback. It was so hard without being able to communicate the thoughts directly like the vishaps did. But this… There must have been another reason for what he did then.

“If my true nature is really not the cause of your hatred…” he took a step back himself, closing his hands on the handle of his cane. “Name concrete actions you believe I’ve performed. I cannot prove a negative.”

____________

Wriothesley watched Neuvillette step back, an eerie glow in his eyes softening to his usual translucent lilacs.

“Was it you who turned fontanians from oceanids into humans who can’t be dissolved by the Primordial Sea?”

“Yes.”

“Then why didn’t you do it before? In all five hundred years?”

“Such a feat requires a full authority of the Hydro Sovereign, power of the original god of life. Large part of this power was in possession of Hydro Archon, so I could not do it, even if I wanted.”

“Hydro Archon could not do it?”

“No. The Sovereign has control over the Primordial Sea, the Archon doesn’t.”

“Did you blackmail Focalors to orchestrate her death and get that power back? Because it’s the only way to save humans?”

“No,” the Iudex said with a dismissive huff. “How would I even blackmail her? I was not in control of the prophecy. You cannot possibly think me complicit with the usurpers in the heavens.”

“You had control over the Primordial Sea, though. If not complete, then considerable. You stopped the flood in the Meripode all by yourself. And so your seal was the only thing controlling the gates to the Sea,”  Wriothesley narrowed his eyes. “And you made sure you will be the one called for when the flood comes to the Fortress so you could create that seal, did you not? You made me the Duke to ensure my loyalty, to know you will be the one I called when the time comes.”

“Is this what you think I am? This is what you think we…” Neuvillette looked at him with what seemed genuine surprise and sadness. “No, I did not plan it. And no, this is not why I petitioned for your title.”

After a moment Iudex’s surprise turned into incredulity.

“What purpose would it even serve? Tell me, if I did not fight for your title… No, even if I explicitly was the one who denied you. Would you then not call for me first anyway?”

Wriothesley exhaled slowly. It was true, there was no one else he would ask. Neuvillette was the most powerful being in Fountaine, raw strength and authority both, his word often more influential than that of the Archon, and demonstrably much more effective decision-wise. Even if Furina was the one who gave him the title and Neuvillette was against him, he’d step over his pride when there were so many lives on the line.

“Okay. How did you become the Iudex then?”

“Focalors sent me a letter of invitation.”

“Why? Why would she invite a mortal enemy to become Chief Justice?”

“You are asking me to answer for the actions of another. At least state the entire crime you think I’m guilty of.”

“That first, you’ve forced Focalors to made you Iudex to have a high seat in human society, then spent centuries waiting and building our trust. Then when the prophecy was finally about to strike, you put Furina on a trial to discredit her and secretly offered a deal to save the humans in exchange for her death and return of your power.”

“I see,” Neuvillette said after a pause. “This is not a plan a dragon would come up with, but I suppose it sounds plausible to someone scared of our kind. Fine. I will tell you what happened from my own perspective.”

“At the time I had no idea why she summoned me. She only explained herself right before the prophecy struck, at the very end of Furina’s trial.”

“She knew only Hydro Sovereign at full power could save fontanians. And she truly believed herself a god of justice. A just decision was to return the authority to the one it was stolen from. For that, she put her human part, Furina, on the throne, and hid her divinity in the Oratrice Mecanique d'Analyse Cardinale, accumulating energy from the trials, for it would take much to destroy the Archon’s throne.”

“At the same time, she invited me to serve as the Iudex, so that I would come to sympathize with the humans after living among them for so long. I was not aware of her intent.”

“In the end, she destroyed the Archon throne, which meant both her own death and Hydro authority returning to me.”

 Wriothesley swallowed, frowning. If this was true… It would mean he saved fontanians for no reason other than mercy. Despite his grief, despite the resentment anyone else would feel towards people who replaced his own. It felt wrong to continue pushing the dragon, but he had to.

“If you did not know that she planned to return your power… Why would you agree to come? To serve the “false god” who has your stolen power?”

Neuvillette looked away. He was silent for a long time, and when he spoke up, it was obviously through a struggle.

“I was trying to find a purpose,” he finally said, with quiet and raw grief. “My people were long gone, I had nothing to apply myself to. And I was born in this form, there had to be some reason for it. I just tried to find a meaning for my existence.”

It was horrible to hear him say it like this, private, deep pain gutted against his wish. Despite Iudex’s solemn and dignified manner, it was always obvious to the Duke that he carried a lot of sorrow in his heart. Wriothesley spent all his years as the Warden evading noisy journalists who demanded to learn people’s deepest secrets, and having to do this to Neuvillette left him feeling sick. 

“I’m sorry. I truly am.”

Neuvillette looked at him with his piercing illuminated eyes.

“The next logical question for your interrogation should be why I decided to save the people of Fountaine.”

 Wriothesley couldn’t stand it anymore.

“No, don’t. If all said to this point is true, I already know it. You’re far too kind to condemn all the people you’ve lived among for centuries. Even if you saw us as pets of your enemy.”

“I didn’t,” the Iudex said after a pause, almost softly. “Not at the end.”

“I believe you,”  Wriothesley said with sincerity that he knew wouldn’t be trusted.

The dragon gave him a long, measuring look, head tilted to the side, guarded in a way Wriothesley was used to seeing only turned to other people. He opened a gloved palm, showing a shimmering drop of water hovering over it.

“I can show you my memories of meeting Focalors as proof.”

Wriothesley’s first instinct demanded to see that “proof”, but he realized it was his own paranoia gnawing at him, just as it was his self-loathing that told him Neuvillette couldn’t give him title without ulterior motive. It felt like looking at moonlight through the dirty windows, and he didn’t want this to be the last thing he saw in the lilac eyes..

“No. I believe you.”

Neuvillette held his eyes for another long moment and then sighed, closing his palm. “I truly do not understand you humans.”

It wasn’t over yet.  Wriothesley forced himself to keep talking.

“Even with this all being true… There’s still a matter of war with the heavens.”

“What of it? You cannot tell me that Fontaine still holds loyalty to the Usurpers. Frankly, it baffles me that it ever did,” Neuvillette’s voice took on sarcastic notes that normally could never be heard from him. “Perhaps this is why they called us “primitive”, but in our kind you punished people who disobeyed you and not their children several generations later. And no vishap would be expected to meekly follow a god that gave them nothing but a death sentence for a crime of their ancestors.”

“It’s not a question of loyalty, it’s a question of casualties that a war like that would take.”

“Casualties? Do you imagine I plan to march humans to the flying island? This is *my* war, not Fontaine’s.”

“Fontaine is *your* country now, like it or not. It will answer for your actions.”

Neuvillette seemed briefly taken off-guard.

“You have a point. Perhaps I’m still too steeped in the notion of considering myself an outsider… But even so. Firstly, I do not plan to leave Fontaine for some time, until I’ve reformed it and could be sure it will stand on it’s own, which could take hundreds of years.”

 Wriothesley breathed out slowly, but Neuvillette held his eyes.

“Second, if you’re concerned with repercussions for my actions, be sure that Focalors signed you a death sentence thrice over. Not only subverting a prophecy, tricking the Usurper, but also destroying the Archon’s Throne to return the authority to the Sovereign? A clear sign the usurpers are slumbering or at least are in weakened state, or they would already bring down the retribution for a sin much greater than Egeria’s.”

“At this point, I *am* the only protection Fontaine could hope for,” Neuvillette’s fingers tightened on the cane, as he looked at  Wriothesley. “Unless you plan to offer them my head on the platter. It would probably work, I admit. The Usurpers are known to be partial to the convenient sacrifices as deals.”

Wriothesley swallowed a bitter chuckle.

“Yeah, after tonight, it’s fair if that’s how you think of me,” he turned, moving to the door. “I’m gonna get an antidote.”

“No need,” Neuvillette said calmly and Wriothesley froze in the middle of the room, mid-step, turning around. “Whoever told you that this… “poison” has an antidote, lied. It does not.”

“What?” his heart fell, the dagger that was lodged under his ribs suddenly sliding down to gut him open.

“This is not a poison at all. It’s a concentrated essence of the Abyss. Any poisonous effects are secondary to the corruption. A human it will kill, sure, and then the body would most likely become a possessed, shambling corpse, driven by the dark urge. A god… a lesser god it might also kill, yes, but for stronger ones it’s meant to corrupt.”

An open wound under Wriothesley’s ribcage turned into an aching fearful whirlpool, cold and black and gnawing.

“An abyss corruption doesn’t kill Sovereigns, but drives us to madness,” Neuvillette continued calmly. “Which could risk contamination of the Primordial Sea if I do eventually die while still corrupted.”

“There must be a way to stop it,” Wriothesley said hoarsely, hearing himself as if from behind a glass wall, numb and petrified. “No. No, it’s can’t be, no, listen, I…” he tried to come up with a plan and couldn’t. He was never so terrified in his life. This couldn’t happen, he could not allow it. Healers seemed useless, if it’s the Abyss curse and not poison, besides, if Neuvillette was the god of life he’d know better, wouldn’t he? But…

“I sense you’re scared. Why?” Neuvillette said suddenly, frowning. “Obviously since I’ve sensed the poison, I’ve removed it beforehand.”

“Removed?”

“It’s a liquid. I’m a Hydro Sovereign,” Neuvillette said slowly, like he was talking to an idiot. “Next time you want to kill me, maybe try something not in my direct control.”

“Fuck,” relief kicked  Wriothesley under the knees and behind the eyes at the same time, leaving his head empty and legs weak. Which left him wide open for the alcohol, tiredness and general shitshow of this night to finally make a strike, now that he knew both Fontaine and Neuvillette were safe. Now he could afford to lose focus.

He stumbled blindly to the side and crashed into the sofa, crumbling to the floor. He managed to sit up and lean against the sofa instead of just sprawling prone, which at this point counted as victory. He was too dizzy to track time, but after some moments, he registered Neuvillette walking up to stop a few steps away and hover awkwardly.

“I did not mean to mislead you like this.”

“It’s fine, you’ve been doing it for years. It was just never with fear before.”

He shouldn’t have said that. But then again, what did it matter? The dragon wouldn’t get it, and  Wriothesley was going to be dead in a few minutes anyway. It would probably be more polite to get out of here before he did, but he couldn’t bring himself to move. He was so fucking tired and, frankly, selfishly would want to die next to Neuvillette than alone. Even if the immortal dragon was going to remember him as a betrayer who ruined his carpet in death. Oh well, luckily, humans didn’t reincarnate, so he wouldn’t have to face it later.

“You’ve put the poison into both of our cups, but there was only one portion of an antidote,” Neuvillette said after a pause. “Why?”

He shrugged, not looking up.

“Well, either you really were a plotting tyrant, and then I don’t want to live in the world where for so many years I’ve… trusted you. Or you were not, and then I do not want to live in a world where I did this to you.”

He heard Neuvillette sigh, with slow and heavy exasperation, and then the dragon sat down on the sofa. Wriothesley could see his crossed legs and hands closing on the handle of the cane from the corner of his eye.

“Absolutely nothing could be simple with you humans, could it?”

“I’m sorry, if it would even mean anything to you,” he wanted to explain himself, but the apologies from someone who betrayed him were probably the last thing the Iudex wanted to hear right now.  Wriothesley could still be useful though. “I think you should seriously look into the conspiracy. The initial thread I got was from the prisoner named Jacque, but the real…”

“I think we should postpone this discussion until you’re no longer drunk and falling in pieces on my floor.”

Wriothesley blinked.

“I… The poison is gonna kick in in a few minutes?”

“I already told you I’ve removed it.”

He turned his head, finally looking up at Neuvillette.

“Even from my goblet?”

“Obviously,” the Iudex looked briefly scandalized. “Why would I leave it?”

“...Because I tried to poison you?”

“That’d be barbaric.”

“That’d be a fitting sentence,” Wriothesley chuckled, looking away. “Oh, sorry, of course. You’ll have me on the trial then.”

The dragon was silent for a long time.

“No,” he said finally.

“What? Why?”

“This situation is largely my own fault,” Neuvillette said, melancholic and very tired, but his voice was still firm. “I should have seen this change of power as a weak point to attract the opportunist piranhas. And as my true identity is kept secret, I’ve only made it easier for them to exploit both the existing prejudices and the insecurities of this turbulent time.”

“You can’t take responsibility for that.”

“Of course I can,” Neuvillette said, with immediate certainty of stating an absolute fact and not an opinion. “What else are the gods for?”

Wriothesley chuckled roughly. Historically, the gods were for watching humans suffer and judging how boring the spectacle is. 

“Fortunately, I am not bound by the laws of either humans or heavens. I can afford the luxury of mercy.”

 Wriothesley looked up. Of course. He decided to forgive and save his foes, what else could you expect.

“Don’t pity me. I am a poor place to bestow divine mercy. I knew what I was doing, and it’s what I expected to die for, not live with.”

“You will have to,” Neuvillette said, meeting his eyes, strict and solemn. ”You are needed by your people.”

 Wriothesley ran his fingers through his hair and buried face in his hands, fighting an urge to lean against the Iudex’ legs. “I had always failed the ones who needed me the most, didn’t I? From all these years ago, it hasn't changed.”

“That’s not true. What you said about your title…” Neuvillette said suddenly. “Even with the worst assumptions about my plotting, I had no way of knowing when the Usurpers’ prophecy would finally strike, and that you will be the Meropide’s Warden at that time. There were Wardens more financially successful or the ones whose loyalty could really be bought with such a favor, but I’ve never petitioned for a title to the Warden before. That title was recognition that you brought fairness to the Fortress, a real option for people to start anew. I thought we had an unspoken understanding of that.”

He thought he reached the far end of how painful it could feel, but now he took a ragged breath and it sliced his throat down to the collarbones.

“I know, I thought so too. I thought… Listen, I’m sorry. No matter how much you despise me now, believe me, I hate myself much more.”

“I don’t despise you,” Neuvillette said, almost with a surprise, turning his head to catch  Wriothesley’s eyes, which he desperately avoided. “I would, if I could suspect you of selfishness in this. But I believe you did what you thought was to protect your people, and I can’t despise that, even if I find the method distasteful.”

 Wriothesley couldn’t bring himself to talk, even breathing was painful and shaky through a lump in his throat.

“Maybe it’s just the clearest sign that I do not belong here after all,” Neuvillette said with resignation after a beat. “At that recent investigation, you were the one who convinced me I was accepted by Fontaine, even had an influence in shaping it. If even you came to stop believing that…”

“No. I didn’t, I…” he finally managed to speak up and willed himself to concentrate through the dizziness and despair. “In my office, I left a signed confession of attempting to kill you. For personal vendetta. Your death would have been seen as a tragedy, your influence solidified even more.”

“You would let your own memory be tainted to preserve my image, even if it was false?”

“Well, I already have a pretty sordid history, don’t I? Not much to ruin and not hard to believe I would do it. Of course it’d be worth preserving your legacy. The fairness, the trial is the only place where the wealthy and the poor, strong and weak would be treated equally,” he shrugged helplessly, struggling to spell this out. “I would have still believed in what you represented even if I could no longer believe you.”

He finally looked up to see Neuvillette looking at him thoughtfully.  

“Don’t give up on us,” he said quietly. “At least on everyone else. Please.”

The dragon was silent for some time, looking away, his face unmoving, unreadable. 

“This is the first time you’ve asked anything of me directly,” he said finally. “I’ll  remember.”

He looked back at Wriothesley, frowning.

“But you’re in such sharp pain, it should be treated. How badly was your hand wounded? Show me.”

“It’s fine. It’s nothing.”

But Neuvillette already extended an open hand and leveled him an expecting glare, so Wriothesley had no choice but to reluctantly place his own into the gloved palm.

“You still have little glass shards there.”

“It’s fine, don’t bother. I’ve dealt with worse.”

But the Iudex was already untangling the bandages, loop after loop, methodically, carefully, and Wriothesley willed himself to keep still, to keep breathing evenly, looking up from where he was sitting on the floor, his treacherous fingers twitching, his heartbeat echoing in his ears. Neuvillette got rid of the last of black damp strips of cloth and looked down, frowning, before swiping a thumb over Wriothesley’s palm. His wounds prickled as the tiny glistening shards were forced out of his flesh and his hand shuddered, mostly from surprise.

“Apologies.”

“It’s fine.”

It was not fine, but for completely different reasons. Neuvillette’s thumb slid over his palm again, his touch feeling light and cool, and too, too gentle, and the slices closed with no scars left. Almost numbly, Wriothesley watched gloved fingertips become stained with his blood, and it felt wrong, almost obscene to dirty the impeccable attire like that. But then even through the obedient haze the thought struck him. If Neuvillette could sense emotions just by being nearby and he could read the entire lifespan of the tea bush by tasting a cup, then what could touching blood tell him?..

“Ah. I should have realized that the emotions I’ve felt from the tea were far too strong for an unthinking plant,” Neuvillette’s fingers stopped moving, lingered for a moment and then slowly circled Wriothesley’s palm in a gesture he’d read as caress if it wasn’t so unthinkable. “It was your yearning that amplified the taste. A dream of rain for a lifetime raised in a drought.”

He couldn’t bring himself to look up, all thoughts scattered, eyes fixed on the gloved fingers on his palm, until they finally started to move away, and then instinctively, he closed his hand and caught them. For a moment he waited for a divine retribution to strike him down for the audacity, and when it didn’t happen, he finally met Neuvillette’s eyes, and they were soft lilacs, not radiant anger. 

“You are misguided, I’m afraid,” he said, and it sounded patient and just a little sad. “We are of different worlds. No matter how much I might look like a human, I’m not and I’ll never be one.”

 Wriothesley held his gaze and carefully, slowly tagged the glove off. Neuvillette’s brows shot up, but he didn’t move. His hand would be the epitome of what was usually described as aristocratic - narrow, with long, elegant fingers, pale and soft, making  Wriothesley’s hand look even more dark and rough by contrast. But there *was* something out of ordinary - the dusting of pearly blue scales at his knuckles. And with every second of being free of the glove, the scales spread, a gentle shimmer of the waves licking farther into the sand of the coast, and the short nails started darkening and elongating. 

 Wriothesley smiled and, holding Neuvillette’s eyes, pressed his lips against the scales on the dragon’s knuckles. “I wouldn’t want something you are not.”

He couldn’t believe his own audacity, but, well, what did he have to lose after tonight? 

“I don’t think you realize how far the differences run.”

“I don’t think you realize how strong human desires run,” he said, lips still against Neuvillette’s knuckles, but then breathed out and forced himself to let go of the Iudex’ hand.. “But it doesn’t matter if you don’t care.”

Suddenly, instead of moving away, Neuvillette’s fingers moved to catch  Wriothesley’s chin, and the human froze, holding his breath.

“If I didn’t care about you, I wouldn’t even let you into my office so late,” the dragon said calmly, slowly moving his thumb over  Wriothesley’s lower lip, long dark claw pressing just on the verge of drawing blood. “You think I would indulge anyone else in playing this pretend poison game?”

This hit Wriothesley harder than alcohol. He opened his mouth to let Neuvillette’s thumb in, pointedly holding his eyes. Iudex’ face stayed calm, but narrow white pupils pulsed, flaring up, making for a moment anything seem possible, and  Wriothesley grinned, taking more of the dragon’s thumb in.

After a heartbeat, Neuvillette moved his arm, letting go of  Wriothesley and folding his hands on the handle of the cane in a familiar gesture. But now, the orderly gloved fingers intertwined with bare fingers, with deep blue and black scales covering almost all of visible skin, dark claws settling against expensive cloth, gold embellishments on one hand and gold ridges growing on the knuckles Wriothesley just kissed on the other hand, maddeningly tempting.

“This is not a conversation we should have when you’re in drunken shock.”

“Listen, I’ve never been more sure of anyth…”  Wriothesley managed to get out, but Neuvillette raised black-blue, scaly, storm-swirled, golden-ridged hand and snapped the clawed fingers and the world went dark.